‘Have you seen Tarquin?’ she asked.
‘No, that’s why I asked you where the moron was.’ Alf twisted the cap off the beer bottle and took a swig. ‘I thought he must have been with you.’
‘No,’ Fern winced. She clenched her fists into a ball. She hated when Alf called her brother names but there was no point saying anything. Alf would just do it more often.
Fern ran over to where the kids were finishing up their game.
‘Has anyone seen Tarq?’ she called.
A couple of older boys shook their heads and a cacophony of ‘no’s came back to her.
‘I saw him,’ Ivy said.
‘Where?’ Fern asked. ‘How long ago?’
‘What are you gonna give me?’ Ivy challenged the older girl.
‘Nothing, you little brat. Just tell me where you saw him.’ Fern could feel her temperature rising. Ivy had that effect on her. In fact, she seemed to have that effect on most of the other children in the camp too.
Ivy’s family, like Fern’s, were from a long line of travelling show people. The Joyces’s carousel was renowned as one of the most beautiful in the country and had been in their family for over one hundred years. Ivy’s father, Jim Joyce, always said that if it wasn’t for him and his carousel no one would bother coming to the show. But everyone knew that wasn’t true. The other rides might not have looked as lovely but they were a lot more popular with the younger patrons. Jim often got into spats with Alf about how things should be run and where the rides should be placed on the showgrounds. Six-year-old Ivy had inherited her father’s bluster. No one wanted to play with her, but no one wanted to be on the receiving end of her parents’ nastiness either. And so they all put up with her – most of the time.
But today Fern wasn’t in the mood for an argument. ‘Look, Ivy, just tell me where you saw him. I’ll give you a chocolate.’
Fern was trying to remember if she had any lollies or chocolates stashed anywhere. It must have been the worst kept secret in the camp that if you wanted Ivy to do anything for you, you gave her something sweet.
‘What sort?’ Ivy asked, although Fern knew she wasn’t fussy. Ivy’s mother and father had her on a strict diet but little did they know that she was always scrounging junk from everyone else.
Fern remembered that she’d hidden some chocolate buttons in the cupboard beside her bed. She jogged over to the caravan and retrieved the little white bag.
‘Here.’ Fern handed the bag to Ivy. ‘So where did you see him?’
‘He walked over the top of the hill.’ Ivy thrust her hand inside the bag and stuffed the chocolate treats one after the other into her mouth.
‘You’re lying.’ Fern reached out and snatched the bag from Ivy’s hand.
‘Am not!’ Ivy reached up and tried to grab the bag back again, but Fern held it high. ‘He asked if he could play football and Pete told him to get lost.’
Fern gasped.
‘Then he just disappeared.’
‘How long ago?’ Fern demanded.
Ivy screwed up her face. ‘I don’t know.’
Fern stamped her foot in frustration. ‘Come on, Ivy, think. I’m sure you’re not as stupid as you look.’
‘I’m not stupid. You are!’ Ivy retaliated.
‘Ivy, I didn’t mean it. Please just tell me when you saw him.’ Fern was desperate.
‘I went inside to have lunch and it was late because Mum cooked a roast, then me and Mum were watching Winners Are Grinners and then Mum told me to go outside and play so it was just after that,’ said Ivy.
‘So it was a couple of hours ago?’ Fern asked.
‘I suppose so.’ Ivy shrugged. ‘He went that way,’ she said, pointing to the top of the hill.
Fern’s stomach twisted. The kids knew they couldn’t say that to Tarquin. Get lost. He’d do it. She would have to tell Alf. It was getting dark and Tarquin could be anywhere.
Hephzibah was pottering in the front garden, adding some bulbs to one of the freshly planted beds, when she looked up and spotted a dark-haired lad over by the fountain. He was sitting on the grass looking at something on the ground. She hauled herself to her feet and went to speak to him.
The old woman wasn’t alone; several of her feline friends were lazing nearby. She’d lost count long ago of how many cats lived at Caledonia Manor, although with the teaching college about to open, she thought it might be time to find new homes for most of her furry companions.
Hephzibah was wearing light khaki trousers, a long-sleeved white shirt and a wide-brimmed hat to protect her face. Since meeting Alice-Miranda earlier in the year she no longer dressed from head to toe in black and had abandoned the veil that once covered her face.
‘Hello there,’ the old woman called as she walked across the lawn towards the boy. ‘Can I help you?’
As she approached him, Hephzibah could see a cat rubbing against the lad’s back. He didn’t seem to have noticed it, so mesmerised was he by whatever was in front of him. Perhaps it was a tortoise, Hephzibah thought hopefully. It would be lovely to have some more wildlife in the garden.
The boy didn’t seem to hear her and Hephzibah wondered if he might be deaf.
‘Excuse me, are you all right?’ she asked, as she drew closer.
The boy moved his head sideways and looked at her. He had the most extraordinary amber-coloured eyes. Just like a cat, she thought to herself.
Hephzibah could now see that he was looking at a collection of badges, neatly lined up in rows.
She tried again to get his attention. ‘My name is Hephzibah and this is my home.’ She wondered if this was the boy Alice-Miranda and Millie had told her about yesterday. ‘Are you Tarquin?’
The boy looked up again. He didn’t smile but there was a lightness about his eyes.
He nodded but then his face fell.
‘What’s the matter?’ Hephzibah asked.
Tarquin stood up, then slowly pointed at her face. He reached up. Hephzibah stood perfectly still as the boy touched her scarred cheek.
‘What’s that?’ he asked seriously.
‘A scar.’ Hephzibah smiled at him. ‘It doesn’t hurt.’
He looked back at her. Hephzibah wondered if something had happened to Tarquin, whether he had been born this way or, perhaps like her, there had been an accident. But her scars were only superficial; whatever was different about Tarquin affected him much more deeply.
‘Do you like cats?’ Hephzibah asked, watching as the tabby smooched up against the boy’s leg.
He nodded and reached down to give the creature a rub on the top of its head. Then he launched into a monologue about cats, their history and what they eat and just about anything else you might care to know about the animals.
‘My goodness,’ Hephzibah interrupted him. ‘You’re very well informed about cats. Do you know about lots of creatures?’
Tarquin nodded.
‘You must have walked a long way,’ Hephzibah said, remembering that Millie and Alice-Miranda said that the camp was over at Gertrude’s Grove.
The boy shrugged. ‘I’m lost. Pete told me to get lost and so I am.’
Oh dear, Hephzibah thought. It would be best to take him up to the house and see if Mr Weatherly could come over from the school and drive him back to the Grove. It was a long way on foot and she certainly couldn’t manage it herself.
‘Would you like something to eat?’ Hephzibah asked the boy. ‘I have some cake.’
At the mention of the word, the boy’s eyes lit up and he nodded.
‘I like cake,’ he said.
‘Well then, dear, come with me.’
Hephzibah watched as he packed his badges away. One by one, he polished each of them with a handkerchief, then placed them into the plastic bag. She waited for him to fini
sh, then led the way back to the house with the young lad and several cats following.
As always, more cats were asleep in various sunny spots along the path and the veranda. Tarquin stopped and patted each and every one of them.
‘I hope you like chocolate cake,’ said Hephzibah as they reached the kitchen door. He crossed the threshold and she motioned for him to sit at the kitchen table, which he studied intently.
Henrietta had gone to her room for a rest, so it was just the old woman and the young boy. Hephzibah lifted the large glass dome from the cake stand and cut a generous slice, which she slid onto a plate and placed in front of the lad.
‘What do you think?’ she said, hoping that he would look up.
Tarquin’s eyes flickered but without so much as a glance her way he shovelled the chocolate confection into his mouth, hoovering up all the crumbs.
Hephzibah smiled at the performance. ‘Goodness, you must be hungry.’
He didn’t reply. Tarquin’s tongue probed the edges of his mouth to make sure that he’d got every last morsel.
‘Would you like some more?’ she asked.
He nodded, and then, as if remembering that he’d forgotten something important, he said, ‘Please.’
Hephzibah delivered another piece of cake and watched him consume it at a similar speed to the first. She then gave him a tall glass of milk. Surely that and the two slices of cake would see him full.
Tarquin gulped the chilled white liquid and finished with a loud ‘ahhh’.
‘Now, my dear boy, I’m going to call a friend and see if he can drive you back to your camp site,’ Hephzibah explained. ‘I don’t think you should try to walk back. It will be dark soon and I’d hate for you to get lost in the woods overnight.’
The old woman walked over to the telephone and pressed 6. Alice-Miranda and Millie had set up speed dial for everyone at the school and all of the other numbers she might need.
‘Hello Mr Weatherly, it’s Hephzibah Fayle,’ she spoke into the receiver. ‘I have a favour to ask.’
Alice-Miranda changed out of her dirty jodhpurs and shirt and into a clean pair of jeans and her favourite white ‘I love New York’ T-shirt. She checked the clock beside her bed and decided there was still time before dinner to see Mr Charles and ask if she might cut some flowers. She wanted to give them to Mrs Smith as a thankyou for all the lovely things she was doing to help her and Miss Pepper. She’d been hoping that Millie would be free to go and see Charlie with her but Mrs Howard had seemed especially keen for Millie’s company.
Alice-Miranda walked down to the kitchenette and sitting room at the back of the house. Millie was gone and so was Mrs Howard, along with any evidence of their tea, but Ashima and Susannah had just arrived back from their afternoon’s adventures.
‘Hello,’ Alice-Miranda greeted the girls. ‘Have you seen Millie or Mrs Howard?’
‘Yes, Howie had Millie and Jacinta and Sloane with her and they were heading to the laundry. My granny just dropped us back at school so it was lucky we had to take our bags to our room or we would have had to go too,’ Ashima explained.
‘Howie didn’t look very happy,’ Susannah added.
‘No, she’s had a busy day with the show committee and I think that’s put her behind with her work,’ said Alice-Miranda.
The laundry building was located at the rear of Grimthorpe House. It was rather like a cave, and had been a scullery and servants’ quarters long before the house became part of the boarding school. Alice-Miranda was torn. She wanted to go and help her friends but she also wanted to see Mr Charles. She decided to see him first and then head back to the laundry.
Alice-Miranda jogged across to the cobblestoned courtyard, past the dining room and through the stone archway that led to the greenhouse. It was getting late and she didn’t know whether Mr Charles would still be there. But in the distance she could see someone moving pots about.
‘Hello Mr Charles,’ Alice-Miranda greeted the old man.
Charlie looked up and nodded. ‘Good afternoon, miss.’
‘I heard that you had quite a busy day,’ Alice-Miranda continued.
‘I think busy would be stating half the fact,’ Charlie replied, his blue eyes twinkling. ‘It’s no wonder Reggie Parker prefers to sleep.’
Alice-Miranda grinned. ‘People keep saying that. It’s a pretty extreme way to avoid chores.’
Alice-Miranda was admiring the colours on an orchid sitting on Charlie’s workbench when the telephone rang. The old man answered it and Alice-Miranda couldn’t help but hear part of the conversation.
‘Charlie Weatherly speaking . . . of course, Miss Fayle, I can do that for you . . . I’ll be over in ten minutes . . . Goodbye.’ He placed the handset back into the cradle and turned to Alice-Miranda. ‘It seems that one of your carnival friends has gone and got himself lost over at Caledonia Manor,’ Charlie began. ‘A boy. Tarquin, I think she called him.’
‘Oh, poor Fern, she won’t know where he is.’ Alice-Miranda bit her lip. ‘She’ll be so worried.’
And then Alice-Miranda realised that this was a perfect opportunity.
‘Mr Charles, I think I overheard that you’re going to Caledonia Manor to pick up Tarquin and take him back to the camp,’ she said. ‘Do you think I could come too? And then on the way I can ask you the question I came about in the first place, and then I can find Fern too and apologise for what happened with Mrs Howard earlier.’
Charlie frowned, wondering what Alice-Miranda was talking about. ‘What happened with Mrs Howard earlier?’
‘It was just a misunderstanding but I would hate for Fern to think that Mrs Howard had accused her of something she didn’t do,’ Alice-Miranda explained. ‘Please may I come with you? I can explain everything on the way and Tarquin might be quite happy to see me, seeing that we met yesterday.’
‘Isn’t he part of the reason you got the bump on your forehead?’ Charlie asked cautiously.
‘It wasn’t his fault,’ Alice-Miranda replied. ‘And it’s almost gone.’
‘We should tell Howie,’ Charlie advised. ‘Do you want to run across and make sure that it’s okay?’
‘Mrs Howard is in the laundry with some of the other girls. I’m sure they won’t have time to miss me.’ This was true, but Alice-Miranda was reluctant to seek out her housemistress’s approval, knowing how concerned she had been earlier about Fern being at the house.
‘Well, I’ll call and leave a message on the house phone instead,’ Charlie decided.
‘That’s perfect,’ Alice-Miranda nodded.
Alice-Miranda and Charlie drove around to the back of Caledonia Manor and found Hephzibah on the veranda with her young guest. Half a dozen cats clambered over him, smooching and generally vying for his attention.
‘Hello Mr Weatherly,’ Hephzibah called. ‘Thank you for coming. I didn’t know how to contact the boy’s family and I’m sure they must be getting worried by now.’
Alice-Miranda exited the passenger door of the utility.
‘Oh, hello dear,’ Hephzibah added. ‘I didn’t know you’d be coming along too.’
‘Hello Miss Hephzibah.’ Alice-Miranda waved back at the old woman. ‘I want to catch up with Fern when we take Tarquin home.’
Charlie and Hephzibah were soon engaged in a hushed conversation so Alice-Miranda went to see Tarquin.
‘Hello Tarquin,’ she said. He seemed mesmerised as he stroked the plush fur of a black-and-white cat. Alice-Miranda tried again. ‘It’s nice to see you.’
Tarquin looked up. He pointed towards the bandaid on her forehead.
‘It’s all right,’ said Alice-Miranda.
‘Come along, we’d better get moving if we’re going to be back in time for tea,’ Charlie called.
Alice-Miranda motioned for Tarquin to come with her. ‘W
e need to get in the car.’
But Tarquin didn’t budge.
‘We have to go and find Fern. She’ll be worried about you.’
Tarquin ignored her completely.
Alice-Miranda was worried that if they tried to force him, he might get upset.
She ran to where Hephzibah and Charlie were standing. She’d had an idea.
‘If you think it will work, dear, I’m sure that puss will find his own way home,’ Hephzibah offered.
Alice-Miranda ran back to Tarquin.
‘Would you like to bring him along?’ She pointed at the black-and-white cat in his lap. ‘He can come with us in the car.’
Tarquin stood up and cuddled the cat to his chest. The animal seemed to have taken a shine to the boy and was nuzzling the side of his face.
‘Say goodbye to Miss Hephzibah, Tarquin,’ Alice-Miranda instructed the lad.
He looked over at the old woman and waved. ‘Bye.’
Hephzibah smiled. ‘Goodbye, Tarquin. Please come again.’
Tarquin, still holding the cat, followed Charlie and Alice-Miranda to the car.
Back at the camp, Fern had rallied a small group of adults and older children. Armed with torches, they were about to set off and look for her missing brother. He’d never spent a night out alone and she couldn’t imagine how frightened he must be, out there in the forest with the light fading. Blasted Pete – he knew better than to tell Tarquin to get lost.
‘Who’s that?’ One of the older boys pointed at the vehicle coming towards them over the rise.
As the car had bumped along the road through the forest, Tarquin remained focused on the cat on his lap. He stroked it and rubbed his face against it, and whispered in its ear. He couldn’t have cared less where they were. But as the vehicle stopped, Fern ran towards the ute and wrenched open the door.
‘Tarq, thank goodness you’re all right.’ She reached into the vehicle and pulled him from the seat, hugging him and the cat.
Alice-Miranda Shows the Way Page 12