‘I wonder who that is,’ she said.
Charlie turned and stared out of the rear window. He was jammed into the back of the tiny car like a sardine in a tin. ‘I don’t recognise the lass.’
Mrs Smith looked into the rear-vision mirror and saw the child. ‘She’s probably one of the carnival children. She might be the same girl Alice-Miranda and Millie met yesterday. The girls spotted her again as we were driving out of Chesterfield Downs.’
‘I heard that our little one had a run-in with one of the boys over there,’ said Mrs Howard. ‘Alice-Miranda didn’t say a thing but Millicent couldn’t wait to regale me with all the details.’
‘You’ve got to feel sorry for the poor kids,’ Charlie began.
‘Sorry for them?’ Doreen Smith scoffed. ‘Why?’
‘How would you like to spend your whole childhood never having a proper place to call home? It must be hard to make friends. And then there’s everyone always suspecting you of being up to no good and getting the blame for anything that goes wrong.’
Howie and Mrs Smith exchanged nods. They could see what Charlie meant.
‘And I think it would be best if we kept this to ourselves. You know what Myrtle’s like once she finds out that the carnival people are here,’ Charlie warned them. ‘I wonder where they’ve set up camp this time.’
‘Gertrude’s Grove, according to Millie,’ Mrs Howard offered. ‘I imagine they’ll move to the showground by the weekend so that they can set everything up in time.’
The ladies agreed with Charlie about keeping the information quiet. There was no point giving Myrtle any more to fuss about.
Deidre Winterbottom drove into the driveway just as the group in front were getting out of the car.
‘Good morning all,’ Deidre called.
‘Morning Deidre,’ the others chorused.
‘How’s Wallace?’ Charlie asked.
‘Well, thank you, Charlie. He’s off with the boys on a cadet camp this weekend so it’s rather quiet at home with just Parsley for company.’
Parsley was Wallace’s treasured West Highland terrier. ‘I hate leaving him at home but I know Myrtle’s not at all partial to dogs and I’d hate to upset her.’
The group crowded onto the front porch and Doreen rang the bell.
‘I hope Herman’s not going to be late again,’ said Howie. ‘I’ve got things to do back at school.’
‘Coming,’ Myrtle’s shrill voice called from inside. She pulled open the door and a strong gust of perfume sent the visitors reeling.
‘My goodness, Myrtle, what’s that scent you’re wearing?’ Charlie asked.
‘Do you like it? It’s called Flower Show and it used to be Reginald’s favourite when we were newlyweds. I thought it might help stir some memories,’ Myrtle explained.
Herman Munz scooted up the front steps to join the group.
‘Or more likely finish him off once and for all,’ Charlie whispered in Herman’s ear as the ladies followed Myrtle inside.
‘Come through. Say hello to the visitors, Reginald,’ she instructed her slumbering husband as they shuffled through the sitting room to the dining room.
Myrtle invited them all to sit down and began to pass out sheets of paper, which looked suspiciously like lists of jobs.
‘Now, we have a lot to get through this morning,’ she announced, then headed into the kitchen and returned with the teapot and a plate of plain biscuits. The teacups and saucers were already laid out around the table.
‘I’m sorry, Myrtle, I should have brought something with me for our morning tea,’ Mrs Smith apologised.
Myrtle pursed her lips. ‘That would have been nice. Especially as I’ve been so busy taking Henrietta Fayle to her appointments here and there and then spending as much time as I can with Evelyn Pepper at the hospital.’
‘How is she?’ Deidre Winterbottom enquired.
‘I think she’s going to have a breakdown,’ Myrtle informed the group. ‘She’s so worried about that silly old horse of hers.’
Mrs Smith couldn’t help but interject. ‘No, she’s not.’
‘She most certainly is,’ Myrtle tutted. ‘Ridiculously so.’
Doreen nodded. ‘Yes, I’m sure she’s concerned about Rockstar but she’s nowhere near a breakdown.’
‘And what gives you that impression, Doreen?’ Myrtle looked up from where she was pouring the tea and glared at the cook.
‘I saw her just yesterday and she’s doing wonderfully well,’ Mrs Smith replied.
Myrtle snorted. ‘Doreen, why don’t you take over pouring the tea and then we can get started. You’re so much better at serving people.’ Myrtle Parker smiled thinly and handed the teapot to Mrs Smith. ‘Now, item one on the agenda: toilet facilities. Who’s going to volunteer to clean them?’
At Chesterfield Downs, Bonaparte had clearly demonstrated his unhappiness about leaving Rockstar. When Wally led him out of the stall the young man received a nasty nip on the arm for his trouble. The pony’s vocal objections had been met with soft nickers from Rockstar, almost as though the big fellow knew that Alice-Miranda just wanted to take his friend out for a little while and then he’d be back. In fact, she’d whispered as much in Rockstar’s ear.
And while Bony proved most difficult inside the stable block, once Wally managed to get him outside the sunshine seemed to improve his mood. Alice-Miranda and Millie spent a couple of hours in the arena putting the ponies through their paces before Chops simply stopped in his tracks and refused to budge. The girls had practised their pairs work over and over and had the two ponies walking, trotting and cantering in tandem better than they had ever done before. But when Chops had had enough, no amount of encouragement – kicks, treats or otherwise – could make him move.
‘Come on, Millie, he’s worked hard this morning and I’m sure that Rockstar will be missing this fellow, too,’ Alice-Miranda called.
When Bony and Alice-Miranda began to move towards the stables, Chops suddenly got the urge to move and even managed a trot to catch up with his friend.
Their arrival was met by a piercing whinny from Rockstar. Bony replied and while Alice-Miranda gave him a quick rub down, the two black beauties had a lovely conversation in whinnies and nickers and neighs. Millie let Chops have a rest in the stall where he had spent the night and the girls headed off to find Wally and say goodbye.
They looked in the feed room and the tack room, but there was no sign of him. All of the lads had disappeared, no doubt for lunch. At the end of the stable block Alice-Miranda could see a light on in the mezzanine level upstairs.
She wondered if Mr Wigglesworth might be in his office.
As the two girls started to climb the staircase, there was a loud howl. ‘Aroooooooooo!’ Keith went on for an age.
‘What are you doing up here, old fellow?’ Alice-Miranda asked as she gave him a pat. At the top of the stairs was a small landing and two offices. Both doors were closed but nameplates indicated who they belonged to.
‘He’s got such sad eyes,’ Millie remarked as she kneeled beside Keith and gave him a scratch under his chin.
‘He’s a basset hound – they always look sad,’ Alice-Miranda replied. ‘But I think perhaps Keith really is at the moment. He must be missing Miss Pepper.’ Alice-Miranda had already noted that the hound was sitting outside the door which bore the name plate Evelyn Pepper, Trainer-Manager.
Alice-Miranda knocked at the other door, which had a brass plate saying Dick Wigglesworth, Stable Foreman.
‘Hello,’ a voice called from within.
Alice-Miranda poked her head around the door. ‘Hello Mr Wigglesworth, it’s just us.’ She opened the door further. ‘We’ve come to say goodbye but we couldn’t find Wally or any of the lads and we just wanted to tell someone that we were heading off.’
&n
bsp; Dick swivelled around in his chair and beckoned for the girls to enter.
Keith began to howl again.
‘For heaven’s sake, Keith! Keep that noise down, you silly old so-and-so. We all miss her,’ he yelled at the mutt, who stopped his howling.
The girls entered the office. There was a huge window looking down onto the stables. Mr Wigglesworth sat at an enormous walnut desk and there were a couple of green leather tub chairs opposite him. The walls on three sides were lined with photographs. All featured horses, most of which had a woman standing beside them.
‘Is that Miss Pepper?’ Alice-Miranda pointed at a photograph of a very handsome bay horse and a gorgeous young woman with cascading blonde curls and a stylish trilby hat.
‘Yes, that’s Ev with her first Group One winner at the Dunhill Guineas. A bay mare called Royal Flush.’
‘She’s beautiful,’ Alice-Miranda remarked.
‘She always has been,’ Dick muttered under his breath.
‘Sorry, Mr Wigglesworth, what did you say?’ Alice-Miranda asked.
‘Beautiful horse that Royal Flush,’ he said.
‘Miss Pepper looks rather lovely too,’ Alice-Miranda added.
‘Oh yes, I dare say she does,’ Dick replied. ‘But I hadn’t noticed.’
Alice-Miranda walked around the room looking at the pictures and reading the engraved brass plates beneath them. She found Mr Wigglesworth’s last comment a little hard to believe, given how many of the photographs were of Miss Pepper.
‘Are you married, Mr Wigglesworth?’ Alice-Miranda asked.
‘No. Suppose I just never found a woman who could put up with the crazy hours of a stable foreman.’
‘How long have you worked for Aunty Gee?’ asked Alice-Miranda.
‘Feels like forever. I think I started the year after Ev came to work here,’ he replied.
‘You must be a pretty amazing team,’ said Alice-Miranda, watching Mr Wigglesworth seriously. He immediately looked away.
‘I suppose we are.’ He fingered a brochure that was sitting on his desk. Alice-Miranda couldn’t see what it was, but he was staring at it intently.
‘So do you think Rockstar really has a chance next Sunday?’ Millie asked as she plonked herself down in one of the tub chairs opposite Mr Wigglesworth.
‘Gosh, where did you two come from? Scotland Yard?’
Millie and Alice-Miranda giggled.
‘He’s never been to the track without Evelyn,’ Dick said finally.
‘Is it true that the Queen’s Cup is the only trophy Her Majesty doesn’t have?’ Millie asked.
‘Yes,’ Dick nodded. ‘And I think she might have to wait another year yet. Have we finished? Don’t you two have to get going?’
‘There’s no hurry, Mr Wigglesworth,’ Alice-Miranda said as she sat down beside Millie. ‘And I think Rockstar will win for sure. And Miss Pepper might be out of hospital by race day anyway.’
Dick frowned. ‘I think you’re wrong there, young lady, on two counts. It’s very unlikely that horse will win and Evelyn needs to stay put until the doctors give her the all-clear. I don’t want her back here until she’s fully recovered. I know what she’s like. She’ll push herself too hard, like she always does.’
Alice-Miranda considered what she’d observed of Mr Wigglesworth. She wondered if Miss Pepper felt the same way about him as he obviously did about her.
The girls gave Keith a farewell pat and headed downstairs. Alice-Miranda checked on Bony and Rockstar, who were standing in their side-by-side stalls, heads over the door looking at each other. Chops was dozing but Millie had the old boy saddled in no time and managed to entice him out into the open air with the aid of a couple of sugar cubes. She hopped onto his back and held out her hand for Alice-Miranda to climb up behind her.
Together they walked down the long driveway and turned left into the shady lane. Chops’s rest had obviously done him good, as he marched along at a fair pace. Alice-Miranda thought it would be fun to try to get him to canter but Millie was worried that her tiny friend might slide straight off his bare backside.
The girls chatted about how they might get in enough practice for the show and when they would have time to get over and ride together again.
‘You’ll have to remind me to ask Mrs Derby if she can help us with all the entry forms for the show tomorrow morning,’ Millie said. ‘I’ve heard that Mrs Parker’s really finicky about them.’
‘I suppose she just likes to stick to the rules,’ Alice-Miranda said as she watched the passing countryside. ‘When did Mrs Parker’s husband die?’
‘He’s not dead,’ Millie replied.
‘What do you mean? Yesterday at Caledonia Manor she said something about her husband having been at the same hospital as Miss Pepper and then she said “God rest his weary soul”.’ Alice-Miranda tried to lean forward to look at Millie.
‘That’s weird. It’s a long story but her husband’s in a coma and she keeps him in the sitting room,’ Millie stated, as though it was the most usual thing in the world.
Alice-Miranda’s mind was in a whirl. ‘Poor Mrs Parker, that’s a terrible predicament.’
‘Poor Mr Parker, I say. Imagine having that woman talking at you all day every day. It’s no wonder he’d rather be asleep.’
‘There must be a medical reason for it,’ Alice-Miranda reasoned. ‘You can’t just will yourself to be in a coma – well, I don’t think you can.’
‘Mrs Howard says that the doctors can’t work it out and there’s no reason in the world why he shouldn’t wake up. It is strange, isn’t it?’ said Millie.
As Chops neared the school gate, Alice-Miranda noticed a girl walking along the side of the road ahead of them. ‘Is that Fern?’ she asked.
‘If it is she can keep walking,’ Millie muttered.
‘I’d like to talk to her,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘I wonder if her arm’s all right.’
‘She doesn’t want to talk to you, Alice-Miranda. She made that perfectly clear yesterday.’
‘I just want to say hello.’ Alice-Miranda slipped off Chops’s rump and began jogging. ‘Fern,’ she called.
On hearing her name the raven-haired girl turned and then, realising who it was, kept walking.
Alice-Miranda was only a few metres away from her now.
‘I just want to talk to you for a minute,’ Alice-Miranda called again.
Fern spun around as Alice-Miranda caught up to her. ‘What do you want?’ she glowered.
‘Hello,’ said Alice-Miranda. ‘I know you were upset yesterday but I just wanted to see if you were okay.’ She glanced at Fern’s bandaged wrist.
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ The girl narrowed her amber eyes, like a cat eyeing its prey.
‘I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t mean to cause a fuss,’ Alice-Miranda apologised.
Fern didn’t know what to say. People didn’t apologise to her. They usually asked her and Tarquin to move along, get off their property and leave their kids alone. She fiddled with a stray strand of hair and held her sore wrist to her chest.
‘Has anyone taken a look at that?’ Alice-Miranda asked.
The gangly girl lowered her eyes and shook her head.
‘Did you bandage it yourself?’
She nodded.
‘Goodness, you must be an expert at bandages. If I had to do it on myself I’m sure I’d end up looking like a mummy with a ham on the end of its arm,’ Alice-Miranda said with a smile.
A picture of an Ancient Egyptian mummy invaded Fern’s mind, with its hands bandaged like two giant hams. She tried to smother a smile.
‘Would you like to come up to the school so I can ask Mrs Howard to take a look at it?’ Alice-Miranda offered. ‘She used to be a nurse.’
Fern shook her h
ead. Her wrist was throbbing and the bruise had deepened and was now a kaleidoscope of purple and yellow along with the black. But medical stuff cost money and she didn’t have any – and she wasn’t about to ask Alf for any either.
As if reading her mind, Alice-Miranda made her a tempting offer: ‘It won’t cost anything – and if you have to go to the doctor, I’m sure that we can work something out.’
‘Why do you even care?’ Fern said suspiciously.
‘Because you’re hurt and I’d do the same thing for anyone,’ Alice-Miranda replied.
‘I don’t need you to feel sorry for me just because I live with the carnival,’ Fern frowned.
‘Gosh, I hope you don’t think that. I’m rather jealous of you, actually. I think it would be wonderful to travel all over the place and meet loads of people and I’m sure you must be able to go on lots of rides too. I mean, the carnival always makes children happy,’ Alice-Miranda babbled.
‘Is that what you really think?’ Fern whispered.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Most people hate it when we come to town and we always get blamed for things that go wrong and stuff,’ Fern explained.
‘Well, I think that’s very unfair,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘If people just took the time to get to know you, then every year when you come back to the village they could catch up with you as friends.’
Millie had been watching Alice-Miranda and the dark-haired girl from a distance. They seemed to be having quite a long conversation. She slipped down off Chops and walked towards them, leading the pony behind her.
‘So where’s your horse?’ Fern asked Alice-Miranda.
‘I’ve left him over at Chesterfield Downs. He’s keeping Rockstar company for a little while. For some reason they’ve taken quite a shine to one another and he’s helping get Rockstar out of his dark mood,’ Alice-Miranda explained.
‘Who’s Rockstar?’ Fern asked.
‘He’s a beautiful stallion, and a rather exciting racehorse,’ Alice-Miranda replied.
Fern’s ears pricked up. ‘Oh. I have heard of him. Isn’t he supposed to be the best racehorse in the world?’ Fern offered just a small titbit about her life: ‘Alf always bets on him. And he always wins, too.’
Alice-Miranda Shows the Way Page 10