Alice-Miranda Shows the Way

by Jacqueline Harvey

  ‘Don’t let her score,’ Nick yelled. ‘Get the ball!’

  Before anyone had time to tackle her, Fern struck the ball and it flew through the two sticks.

  A cheer went up from Pete’s Stars, who leapt about, slapping each other on the back. Pete pulled his shirt over his head like the footballers on television and ran around with his arms outstretched like an aeroplane’s wings. Fern gave Millie a huge smile before high-fiving her.

  The game continued for about ten minutes with Rory’s Rangers scoring the next two goals. Alice-Miranda had only kicked the ball once but she was enjoying running around the field.

  Rory booted the ball hard and it flew past the ponies and through the fence.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ said Alice-Miranda.

  She ran to the fence and ducked through the wires that divided Gertrude’s Grove from the stream. She scanned the bank for the ball but couldn’t see it. A couple of thick shrubs grew close to the water’s edge. Alice-Miranda scampered along the bank and was just about to check under the shrubs when she noticed a boy sitting a little further downstream on a flat rock. She thought he looked about the same age as Lucas and Sep, and he was engrossed in something.

  ‘Hello,’ Alice-Miranda called. The boy glanced up at her but quickly focused back on whatever it was he’d been looking at.

  ‘Oh, goodness!’ Alice-Miranda exclaimed. ‘What a lovely lot of badges you’ve got there.’

  Sitting on the rock in neat rows were at least forty badges of all different shapes, colours and sizes. Beside them was a plastic drawstring bag.

  The boy pointed to the badges one at a time as he said, ‘That’s from the fire brigade. It’s an Inspector’s badge from 1978 and that’s the Queen’s Guards badge from 1985 and that one Fern got from Chicken Charlie’s last year.’

  Alice-Miranda read the name on another badge and wondered who Sylvia Rutherford was.

  The boy looked up at her and she noticed that he had the most extraordinary amber-coloured eyes, like one of Miss Hephzibah’s cats.

  ‘My name is Alice-Miranda Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones.’ She offered her hand, which he completely ignored. ‘What’s your name?’

  His attention went back to the badges.

  ‘Tarquin James Sharlan,’ he said.

  ‘Well, it’s lovely to meet you Tarquin James Sharlan. I’m looking for the football,’ Alice-Miranda explained. She was surprised the other children hadn’t come after her by now. She spied the ball under a bush close to the boy, reached in and pulled it out. ‘Do you want to play?’

  ‘Not allowed,’ the boy said, staring at his collection. ‘They won’t let me.’

  ‘Why don’t you come back with me and we’ll see what they say?’

  Tarquin began to put his treasures away in the drawstring bag. He counted the badges as he placed them carefully inside.

  ‘Do you want some help with that?’ Alice-Miranda reached down to assist.

  ‘Don’t touch!’ he snapped. ‘I can do it.’

  Alice-Miranda backed away and watched him finish packing his belongings. He dusted each badge before placing it carefully into the bag. Alice-Miranda finally emerged from the bushes with Tarquin behind her.

  ‘About time,’ Rory yelled. ‘We were gonna send a search party.’

  Pete spied Tarquin. ‘Oh, what’s he doing here?’ he sighed.

  ‘I thought he could join the game,’ said Alice-Miranda as she ran onto the field. Tarquin hung back near the fence.

  ‘No way,’ Rory said.

  ‘Why not?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘Because he’s weird,’ Pete said.

  The children had now gathered around Alice-Miranda.

  ‘He is not!’ Fern spat.

  ‘Is too,’ Robbie said.

  ‘He can play if he wants,’ Fern said firmly.

  ‘Sides won’t be even then,’ Pete said.

  From the other side of the temporary fairground came a wailing cry, like a banshee with a bee-sting. ‘Jimmy Peterson, you get off that field and come and clean up your rubbish.’

  Jimmy sighed. ‘I gotta go, or she’ll be out here dragging me by the ear.’ He scampered off towards the camp.

  Alice-Miranda looked at Pete. ‘Now you need another player for your team.’

  ‘Tarq, come on,’ Fern called to the boy.

  Alice-Miranda noticed that Fern’s eyes were almost the exact same colour as Tarquin’s. She had a similar olive complexion and dark hair too.

  Tarquin ran towards the field.

  ‘What about me?’ Ivy whined. ‘I don’t want to be the referee any more. It’s boring.’

  ‘I’ll swap if you like,’ Ellie offered.

  Ivy gave her the whistle and skipped back to find a position.

  ‘He has to be the goalie,’ said Pete, making a face at Tarquin. ‘And you’d better not let any through.’

  Tarquin meandered off to the other end of the field and stood between the makeshift posts. Pete kicked off and with Robbie making a clear run, it looked like his team was set for another goal to draw the match. Just as Robbie struck the ball towards the posts, Nick intercepted and ran the full length of the field.

  Pete looked at the empty goal. ‘Where’s Tarquin?’ he yelled angrily.

  Tarquin had disappeared and was now sitting on the sideline examining a stick.

  Nick flew towards the goals and kicked. Score!

  Rory’s Rangers were leading three to one.

  ‘I told you he’s an idiot,’ said Pete, storming towards Tarquin.

  ‘Leave him alone,’ Fern yelled. ‘He didn’t mean it.’

  Pete grabbed Tarquin by the shirt and shook him.

  ‘Stop it!’ Fern screamed. The rest of the kids ran to see what was going on.

  Alice-Miranda tried to reason with him. ‘Please, Pete. I’m sure that Tarquin was just distracted.’

  ‘What would you know?’ Pete yelled at her. ‘You don’t know him. You don’t know anything about him. Someone needs to teach him a lesson.’ Pete picked up the bag containing Tarquin’s badge collection.

  ‘NO!’ the boy yelled and snatched it back again.

  ‘Why, you!’ Pete reached out to push Tarquin but Fern got in the way. He shoved her with all his might and she fell to the ground, taking the full weight on her left wrist.

  Tarquin rushed at Pete. Alice-Miranda tried to stop him but Pete flung her out of the way like a rag doll. The tiny girl fell, grazing her forehead on a sharp stone that was hidden in the grass.

  ‘Pete, stop it!’ Rory yelled. ‘Alf’s coming. If he catches you fighting you know what he’ll do.’

  ‘Go and play with your stupid badges,’ Pete yelled at Tarquin, who immediately sprang to his feet and ran towards the fence, nimbly negotiating the wires and disappearing through the willows.

  Pete reached out to help Alice-Miranda up.

  She felt the sting of tears in her eyes and her head hurt a little but she grabbed his hand.

  ‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t have interfered.’ Then without another word, the group scattered and Pete ran off towards the caravans and out of sight.

  Fern lay on the ground. She was holding her wrist and crying quietly.

  ‘That Pete’s a brute,’ said Millie. She reached out to help Fern stand. ‘You should see the doctor about your wrist. It might be broken.’

  The raven-haired girl cradled her injured hand against her chest. ‘It’s nothing,’ she insisted, sniffing.

  ‘We could at least get you some ice,’ Alice-Miranda suggested.

  ‘No! You’ve done enough. Just go away. You don’t belong here!’ With that the girl fled towards the camp site and disappeared into the maze of vehicles.

  Alice-Miranda
and Millie were left alone in the middle of the field.

  ‘Are you all right? You’re bleeding,’ said Millie. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and reached up to put it against Alice-Miranda’s forehead. ‘I can’t believe he pushed you.’

  ‘It’s just a scratch,’ said Alice-Miranda, ‘and I think he was sorry.’

  ‘Come on.’ Millie put her arm around Alice-Miranda and the girls walked towards the ponies. ‘We should go and see Miss Hephzibah. I’m sure she’ll have a plaster.’

  The bloody mark on Alice-Miranda’s forehead was beginning to swell.

  ‘I told you the carnies can’t be trusted,’ Millie grumbled as she gave Alice-Miranda a leg-up onto Bonaparte’s back.

  ‘It was just a stupid argument,’ Alice-Miranda said, frowning. But she had a strange feeling about Tarquin and the children from the carnival.

  Millie threw her leg over Chops. ‘Let’s go.’

  The girls wheeled their ponies around and began to trot up the hill away from the camp site. Alice-Miranda turned to look back and saw Fern sitting on the step of a whitewashed caravan. It was the biggest of all in the camp. In front of her a giant of a man with a ginger beard was making extravagant gestures. He didn’t look happy. She wondered if he was the fellow they called Alf.

  Millie and Alice-Miranda rode back through the woods and turned right at the fork in the road, towards Caledonia Manor. They didn’t stop at the stables but rode up the driveway. The place was completely transformed since Alice-Miranda’s last visit over a month ago. Back then the builders and tradesmen had been busy concentrating on the renovations to the manor. The gardens had still been overgrown with waist-high weeds, but now the grounds were splendid.

  ‘Look at that.’ Millie pointed at a gigantic fountain in the middle of the lawn. Water spurted from the ornate cherub centrepiece.

  ‘It must have been there all the time,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘You just couldn’t see it. And don’t those flowerbeds look lovely?’ Alice-Miranda studied the pretty blooms growing along the fence.

  The front of the manor, with its four Ionic columns and stately portico, looked as grand as ever. The double doors were painted slate grey and the brass handles gleamed.

  ‘We should go around the back and tie the ponies up there,’ Millie suggested. ‘That’s where I’ve left Chops when I’ve been to visit.’

  They passed by the side of the mansion with its new roof and rebuilt wing. Alice-Miranda couldn’t help thinking that the house looked twice as large as it had before the renovations.

  The girls rode across the expansive lawn to the bottom row of balustrades and slid off their ponies, hitching them to the railing.

  A crust of dried blood had formed on Alice-Miranda’s forehead and the bump was noticeably larger than when they had left Gertrude’s Grove.

  Millie pointed at the wound. ‘You really need someone to take a look at that.’

  ‘I’m fine. Really I am. It doesn’t hurt at – ow!’ Alice-Miranda flinched as she reached up and touched her head. ‘All right. It hurts a little bit,’ she confessed.

  The girls made their way to the kitchen door. Several cats were asleep in sunny spots along the veranda. A grey tabby woke at their approach and stretched out.

  ‘Hello puss,’ said Alice-Miranda. She reached down and gave its belly a rub.

  ‘Miss Hephzibah, Miss Henrietta,’ Millie called as she knocked loudly, then opened the screen door.

  The girls could see the outline of Hephzibah standing beside the stove.

  ‘Oh Millie, what a lovely surprise, and Alice-Miranda too. Heavens, dear, whatever happened to you?’ Hephzibah called as she caught sight of Alice-Miranda. She ushered both children inside and ordered Alice-Miranda to take a seat at the kitchen table.

  Hephzibah bustled about the kitchen, insistent that for once Alice-Miranda should sit quite still. The old woman found a first aid kit in the butler’s pantry and swabbed Alice-Miranda’s grazed forehead with antiseptic. A bandaid covered the wound. Then she wrapped some ice in a tea towel and told Alice-Miranda to hold it on her forehead for a little while to help the swelling.

  ‘Now, I’ll make us some tea,’ said Hephzibah. ‘Do stay still, dear!’

  ‘Is Miss Henrietta home?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘Not at the moment. Mrs Parker came this morning to take her for her doctor’s appointment. Ever since you “discovered” me here and I came out for all the world to see, Mrs Parker’s been so kind and helpful,’ Hephzibah said as she busied herself locating three teacups and saucers in the cupboard.

  ‘Mrs Parker?’ Millie asked distastefully. ‘Do you mean Myrtle Parker?’

  ‘Yes, Millie,’ Hephzibah nodded. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘You must be one of the only people in the village who has anything nice to say about her,’ Millie said. ‘She’s a bit of a busybody.’

  ‘Oh no, Millie. She’s lovely – always terribly interested in what’s happening. I don’t know how I would have managed without her help,’ the old woman said. ‘And Henny has come to rely on her quite a bit too.’

  Millie still looked unconvinced. ‘She didn’t get the nickname Nosey for nothing.’

  ‘I haven’t met her yet,’ Alice-Miranda said.

  ‘You will soon enough,’ said Millie. ‘She’s the president of the Show Society and Mrs Howard says that she’s the village’s self-appointed expert on everything. She’s even given herself the job of chief judge for all of the equestrian events, which isn’t going to be good for Chops, seeing that when I was out riding in the village earlier in the year she told me he looked like a cross between a donkey and a Dartmoor pony. As if! He’s got at least another ten varieties in him. Silly woman wouldn’t know her ponies from her pigs, I say.’

  Hephzibah and Alice-Miranda giggled.

  ‘Is Miss Henrietta well?’ Alice-Miranda asked, changing the subject.

  ‘She’s made some remarkable progress since that terrible stroke. The doctors can hardly believe it,’ the old woman replied.

  Hephzibah poured three cups of tea, black for herself and weak and milky for the two girls. She placed them on the table and pushed the sugar bowl towards Alice-Miranda.

  ‘Thank you, Miss Hephzibah.’ Alice-Miranda put a teaspoon of sugar into her cup.

  Millie reached over and dumped three large scoops into her tea.

  ‘Are you making syrup?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘Ha ha,’ Millie replied. ‘I’m not going to stir it.’

  Hephzibah smiled. ‘You know, I used to like it just like that myself when I was a girl.’

  ‘See, Alice-Miranda, there are other people who have good taste, you know,’ Millie said with a nod.

  Hephzibah looked across at Alice-Miranda, her cornflower blue eyes sparkling. ‘So, tell me, how did you come to get that bump on your head? I hope that naughty pony of yours didn’t have anything to do with it.’

  ‘It was nothing, really,’ Alice-Miranda replied.

  ‘If you don’t tell, then I will,’ Millie threatened.

  ‘Okay . . .’ Alice-Miranda explained all about their meeting with the children from the carnival and the lovely time they were having playing football. She told Hephzibah about finding Tarquin by the stream and his collection of badges. Millie took great delight in joining in the tale.

  ‘. . . Pete went off his head and said that Tarquin was stupid, and Fern said that he wasn’t, and then she got in the way and Pete pushed her over and she hurt her wrist, and then when Alice-Miranda tried to help, Pete pushed her so hard! And she hit her forehead on a rock in the grass. I warned Alice-Miranda that the carnies weren’t to be trusted but she just wouldn’t listen . . .’

  Alice-Miranda protested that it wasn’t anything near as bad as Millie said. Miss Hephzibah nodded and sipped her tea quietly.


  After a minute or so, the old woman broke the silence. ‘I think I know better than most what it feels like to be an outsider. Those carnival children do too.’ She put a hand to her scarred cheek and her eyes took on a glassy sheen.

  Alice-Miranda walked around the table to Miss Hephzibah, gave the woman a hug and pecked her powdered cheek.

  ‘Now what was that for?’ Hephzibah asked.

  ‘Just because,’ Alice-Miranda smiled.

  Hephzibah hugged Alice-Miranda back.

  ‘Well, I still don’t think we should go anywhere near the Grove for the next couple of weeks,’ Millie said decisively. ‘And I hope we don’t see those kids again.’

  But Alice-Miranda couldn’t stop thinking about Fern and Tarquin. She wondered if they were brother and sister. They certainly looked alike. She was hoping very much to see them again, and sooner rather than later.

  The girls helped clear their cups and saucers, and Hephzibah offered to take them on a tour of the house.

  ‘When does the teaching college open?’ Millie asked as the threesome walked from the kitchen into the grand foyer.

  ‘It’s still a little way off – but I know Miss Grimm and Professor Winterbottom have been interviewing for staff,’ the old woman replied. ‘There’s a bit of government red tape they have to pass yet.’

  Through crystal clear windows, shards of light danced on the polished parquet floor. Long gone were the white dust sheets that had covered the furniture and hidden Caledonia Manor’s splendour. The grand entrance foyer was truly magnificent. Its stairway rose up in the centre of the room and then splayed into two flights going left and right. A silk carpet runner in red and blue ran up both sides. An array of ornate antiques adorned the room, including a grandfather clock with the most delightful chime. There was a mahogany table against the left-hand wall, and in the middle of it an enormous floral display in an antique Japanese urn gave a splash of colour to the vast room. From the centre of the ceiling a crystal chandelier twinkled.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Alice-Miranda gasped.

  ‘Yes,’ said Hephzibah. ‘It’s the showpiece of the whole house.’