Alice-Miranda to the Rescue (16 page)

Almost three hours had passed since Darius and his crew had arrived at Barry and Roberta's house. So far all they'd managed to do was drag an enormous amount of equipment into the sitting room, drink several cups of tea and poke about in the Poochie Palace and the garden.

‘Does it always take this long to set up?' Roberta asked Darius. The man seemed to spend an awful lot of time checking the messages on his telephone between admiring his tanned reflection in the mirror.

‘I'm afraid there's a lot less glamour in television than most people think,' he replied. ‘It can take days to get the right shots.'

‘Do you have a plan?' Barry asked.

Darius pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket and passed it to Barry. ‘This is the rough running sheet.'

Barry studied it closely. ‘So you're not going to be trailing Roberta for the whole time?'

‘No, we'll just film short segments and then get out of your hair. I want to grab some location shots and follow the setting up for Chudleigh's as well,' Darius said. ‘Oh, and I've heard that Becca Finchley is back in the game, so we're organising to interview her as well.'

Roberta blinked, her smile freezing on her face. ‘But I thought this was all about me?'

Darius chuckled, revealing an even whiter set of teeth than Roberta's. ‘Are you kidding, honey? This is television. It's all about
me
.'

Barry gulped.

‘Why's Becca Finchley going to be on my series?' Roberta blurted. ‘She only has one dog left and she's in a wheelchair. I don't know how she's even going to show it properly.'

‘It's a great story,' Darius said. ‘I think the woman's a miracle, especially considering what happened with her dogs. The public will be so thrilled to see her. Imagine if she took out Best in Show – our ratings would go through the roof!'

Barry pressed his palms against his forehead, wishing that overblown peacock would close his big mouth.

Alice-Miranda walked into the classroom and looked around. For a moment she wondered if she was in the right place. Over the back of each chair hung long rose-pink sashes, and attached to the whiteboard were two giant pieces of cardboard, with fabric samples and pictures of flowers, food and other wedding decorations pasted all over them. They looked similar to the inspiration boards her mother used for planning events or deciding on new decor for the house.

‘Hello?' the child called out.

There was a loud thud as Miss Reedy appeared from under her desk. The woman rubbed her head and glanced at the clock. ‘What time is it?' she asked.

‘I'm early,' Alice-Miranda replied. Poor Miss Reedy looked to be in such a muddle – things had really got out of hand. ‘Um, Miss Reedy, I think there's a piece of pink marshmallow stuck to the side of your face.'

Livinia touched her cheek and prised off the offending sweet. She registered the state of the room and began to panic. ‘Oh, heavens, I have to get this place cleared up,' she said.

Alice-Miranda looked around the desk, where the remnants of last night's roast dinner were congealed on a plate. There were fabric scraps strewn all over the floor along with bundles of clear cellophane bags stuffed full of pink and white lollies with the odd green one too. A long roll of pink ribbon, the same colour as the sashes, cascaded down the side of the desk.

The woman's eyes filled with tears and she began to sob loudly.

Alice-Miranda rushed to comfort her. ‘Miss Reedy, what's the matter?' she asked, throwing her arms around the woman's waist.

‘It's all too much,' Livinia sniffled. ‘I'm calling the whole thing off.'

‘Surely it's not that bad,' the child said.

‘I should never have let Mr Plumpton talk me into getting married so soon. And now there's all the fuss about the silly dog show and I'm just so tired,' she wailed.

Other girls were beginning to arrive and had gathered near the door whispering.

Alice-Miranda stepped back and passed the woman a tissue from the box on her desk. ‘I want you to sit down and tell me what else you need to do before the wedding.'

‘I can't,' the woman sobbed. ‘I have to teach you about dangling modifiers.'

Alice-Miranda spun around. ‘Girls, does everyone know what that is?'

There were a few blank faces, then Sloane raised her hand. A frown perched on her forehead as she thought for a moment. ‘A dangling modifier is a modifier that has nothing to modify.'

Livinia Reedy blew her nose loudly and stared at the girl.

‘Is that wrong?' Sloane asked, biting her lip.

‘No, that's perfect,' the woman whimpered.

‘See, we do pay attention in class,' Alice-Miranda said. ‘So, why don't you sit down and write that list? Sloane, can you make Miss Reedy a cup of tea? We'll get started right away. I think these ribbons need to be measured and cut and tied around the lolly bags, and I'm assuming you're making fabric bows for all of the chairs.'

The teacher gulped. ‘But what if Miss Grimm –'

The school intercom system crackled to life. ‘Miss Reedy, you are to do exactly as Alice-Miranda has told you and I will not hear another word,' a voice boomed. ‘I'll be over to lend the children a hand in a minute.'

Miss Reedy's face crumpled and she began to cry all over again.

‘Livinia, I can see you,' Miss Grimm said.

The children gasped. They had all thought the headmistress's secret spy system had been dismantled when she'd finally emerged from her study after all those years of hiding, but now it seemed that wasn't the case.

‘Don't look so surprised, girls,' the headmistress said. ‘I don't use it very often – this was an emergency.'

Alice-Miranda giggled and threw the roll of ribbon to Sloane.

Millie laid another triangle of bright red material on top of the pile. ‘Forty-nine, fifty,' she counted, then pushed the bundle over to Mrs Howard, who was sitting at the dining-room table in front of her sewing machine. For the past couple of hours, the housemistress had been running up miles of red and navy bunting as quickly as the girls could cut the triangles. Miss Wall was supervising the patterns and cutting while Miss Tweedle was at a trestle table at the other end of the room, helping another team paste white fabric letters onto the triangles, spelling out the word ‘Chudleigh's' over and over again. It was now Wednesday evening and Miss Grimm had decreed that all co-curricular activities were suspended until after the weekend. There were girls helping Mrs Smith in the kitchen while others had been assigned to sewing duties with Mrs Howard and another team was doing some twilight gardening with Charlie.

‘I can't believe I let Mrs Parker talk me into making bunting for the dog show. We've got rolls and rolls of the stuff already but, no, she wanted more to string across the ceiling in the gymnasium, and
of course
it had to be branded,' Mrs Howard blustered
as she pinned triangles onto the thin rope of fabric that was to hold them up. ‘And I've still got to make another lot for the wedding. Miss Reedy's bought the prettiest floral fabric in pinks, blues and greens. It's going to look lovely in the dining room – that's if I can ever get this finished first.'

‘I love her country wedding theme,' Alice-Miranda enthused. ‘I'm so glad that Miss Grimm let us help her this morning. The poor woman was exhausted.'

‘She's not the only one,' Mrs Howard sighed. The housemistress stopped what she was doing and glanced around the room. ‘Has anyone seen the pup?' she asked. No one noticed the roll of red and blue bunting that was beginning to unravel from the end of the table.

‘He was in his basket a minute ago,' Millie said. She walked over to the corner of the room, where the girls had set up a beanbag barrier to keep the puppy in. ‘Uh-oh – he's gone.'

‘Off you go and find him, please, and be on the lookout for puddles. That dog only has to see a water bowl,' Mrs Howard tutted.

The back door opened and the children were surprised to see the headmistress.

‘Hello everyone,' Ophelia Grimm trilled. ‘How's it going in here?'

‘Hectic,' Miss Wall replied without looking up from her cutting station. Caprice was sitting beside the woman, working silently.

‘It looks like you're all doing a great job. Mr Grump and I have just been sorting out how the seats are going to be installed around the edge of the gymnasium,' Ophelia said. Her gaze wandered around the room. ‘Where's the puppy?' she asked.

Ophelia caught sight of the triangles at the end of the table flipping onto the ground. She ducked her head down to see the puppy stomping his paws and gathering a bundle of bunting on the floor. He looked up at her with his big brown eyes and barked playfully.

‘Fudge, what are you up to?' the headmistress whispered, crawling over to him on all-fours. She pulled him to her chest and stood up.

Alice-Miranda and Millie looked at each other and grinned. ‘Fudge?' said Millie.

The headmistress's cheeks were aflame, realising what she'd just said.

‘Does that mean we're keeping him, Miss Grimm?' Alice-Miranda asked. Several other girls had left their jobs and hurried over to see what was happening.

‘Pleaaaase,' the girls begged.

‘You can't take him away now. We all love him so much,' Sloane said.

‘It wouldn't be fair,' Millie added.

Mrs Howard nodded. ‘And now that you've given him a name, well, that changes everything.'

‘I didn't mean to. It was an accident, really,' Miss Grimm said. ‘Mr Grump was having a piece of Mrs Smith's delicious caramel fudge and he hopped up to make a cup of tea. When he came back, this little fellow had managed to climb up on the lounge and was helping himself.'

‘I love it,' Alice-Miranda said. ‘Fudge is perfect.'

There was a chorus of agreement.

‘I should have talked to Mrs Howard first, though, girls,' Ophelia apologised. ‘I know that she's going to have to help look after him but we've all been so busy this past week.'

Ophelia Grimm deposited the pup into Mrs Howard's arms. ‘You're going to have a lovely life here with us, aren't you, little man?' the old woman cooed. Fudge's tongue shot out and licked her cheek. ‘Oh, you cheeky mite,' she said and gave him a squeeze.

Myrtle Parker picked up her clipboard and eyed the list of jobs still to be done. The past week had been frenetic to say the least and now the competitors were arriving in their droves. Thank heavens the locals had got behind her and the Show Society Committee. There had been numerous offers of accommodation and Professor Winterbottom had agreed to hand over the dormitories at Fayle. Unfortunately, Ophelia Grimm had been unwilling to do the same, insisting that it was simply too disruptive
for the girls, who also had a wedding to attend on Sunday afternoon. As she studied the plan for the layout of the hall, a man with a huge camera and another fellow holding a boom pole wandered into her peripheral vision. Myrtle's head snapped up, her pupils narrowing in on the intruders.

‘Excuse me, what are you doing in here?' she called out, marching towards them. ‘I
said
excuse me, who gave you permission to film in here?'

‘Cut!' the cameraman yelled, visibly annoyed by the interruption. He turned to glare at her, revealing a third man with a microphone in his hand.

‘Sorry, madam, but who are you?' the man with the microphone asked.

‘Who am
I
?' Myrtle scoffed. She stared at him, thinking he looked vaguely familiar. ‘I asked
you
first.'

‘I'm Darius Loveday and we're filming for
Dog Days
,' the man said.

Myrtle blanched. ‘Darius Loveday?
The
Darius Loveday, investigative reporter for
Prime Time Crime
?'

The man nodded.

‘What are you doing working on a silly show about dogs?' she asked. Several of the Chudleigh's
team shot the woman snarky looks. ‘I mean, isn't that something of a step down for a journalist of your stature?'

Darius sighed and ignored her question. ‘I don't believe we've met.'

‘I'm Myrtle Parker, President of the Winchesterfield Show Society,' the woman said importantly.

Darius smiled at her with his eyes and commenced his charm offensive. ‘It's lovely to meet you, Mrs Parker. You've certainly got your hands full, taking on Chudleigh's at such short notice.'

Myrtle's lips twitched into a grin. There was a rugged handsomeness about the fellow. He looked like a very well-bred man of the land in his moleskin trousers and checked shirt. She assumed him to be in his mid-forties, although his tanned face could have belonged to someone at least ten years younger. ‘What are you doing filming in here?' she asked, softening. ‘I'd heard that
Dog Days
was all about my neighbour, Roberta Dankworth, and her hounds.'

‘We've got permission from the Chudleigh's team to film the show as well,' Darius said. ‘We thought we might get some shots of the setting up to use as a bit of a montage.'

Myrtle's lips tightened and she looked as if she'd swallowed something unpleasant. ‘It would have been nice if someone had told me that.'

‘My sincerest apologies, Mrs Parker, I thought they had,' Darius said smoothly. ‘We'll get out of your way. You must have a lot to do.'

‘Will I be on the show?' Myrtle asked.

‘Well, I imagine so, if we continue filming,' the man said.

Myrtle smoothed her skirt and checked her curls. ‘Would you like me to give you a tour?' she asked. She was warming to the idea of gatecrashing Roberta Dankworth's star turn.

Darius glanced at his crew, who were standing behind the woman and wildly shaking their heads.

‘It's going to be much easier if I take you around, otherwise I just don't know if it's convenient, really,' Myrtle said with a pinched smile.

The cameraman and sound engineer's shoulders slumped.

‘Thank you, Mrs Parker, that's very kind,' Darius said, plastering a grin on his face. ‘We've only got about half an hour, though, as we have to pay a visit to Becca Finchley.'

‘Is she part of your show too?' Myrtle asked. ‘Poor dear, losing her husband like that and then her dogs too. It wasn't a very welcoming introduction to the village for her, was it? I've called on her a couple of times in the past few months but I can't be responsible for everyone's welfare, can I?'

In truth, Myrtle had dropped by once and left a casserole for the Finchleys at their front door but she'd never heard a word of thanks from the woman and so hadn't been again. If only Myrtle had known that the note she'd left wedged under the dish had flown away into the garden and Becca had no idea who the kind soul was who had left it for her.

‘I heard that Mrs Finchley has one dog left that she's entering in the competition,' Myrtle said.

Darius nodded. ‘Yes, and from what I hear she's a shoo-in for Best in Show.'

Myrtle's face split into a broad smile. ‘Really? So you don't think Mrs Dankworth's hound will take out the top spot?'

‘It'll be close I'm sure but, let's face it, people will be glad to see Mrs Finchley,' Darius said.

‘So you think she'll get the sympathy vote from the judges?' Myrtle said.

Darius frowned. ‘No, that's not what I meant.'

‘Oh, that's all right,' Myrtle beamed. ‘I'd love to see her win. It would be wonderful.'

Myrtle Parker returned home at the end of the day exhausted. Reginald was nowhere to be found in the house, so she tripped along the garden path to the shed. ‘Reginald, I'm home,' she called.

Her husband stuck his head out the door. ‘Hello dear,' he said. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?'

‘Oh, that would be lovely,' Myrtle replied.

‘I've just made one for Barry and me,' he said.

Myrtle's face fell as she reached the shed and poked her head inside. ‘You're here. Again.'

‘Hello Mrs Parker,' Barry said with a grin. ‘I just popped down to bring Reg's drill back.'

‘Oh well, that does make for a nice change – a neighbour who actually returns things,' Myrtle said, noticing that the man hadn't come alone.

Farrah Fawcett was gambolling about, hoovering up the crumbs from the biscuits Reg and Barry were eating.

‘How's everything going at the showground?' Reg asked. He'd offered to help but Myrtle had insisted that he'd only get in the way.

‘Busy, busy, busy, and then would you believe I had Darius Loveday there for half the day too?' Myrtle began.

‘Really?' Barry said. He'd been quite glad that the man and his crew had disappeared after breakfast as Roberta was getting more and more uptight about the show and really needed some time with Citrine on her own.

‘Yes, he asked me to give him a tour, and afterwards I took him over to look at the schools so they could see how things were progressing there too, although I must say Miss Grimm and Professor Winterbottom were less than welcoming,' Myrtle fussed.

‘You have to remember, Myrtle, Chudleigh's is not their primary concern – and they have been generous helping out,' her husband said.

‘I know that, Reginald. But surely having the children miss a lesson or two wouldn't be such a big deal. Anyway, Darius and his crew left me to go and film Becca Finchley,' Myrtle explained.

‘I wonder how she's going,' Barry said, taking a sip of his tea.

‘Apparently she's doing very well,' Myrtle replied.

‘Do you know who's going to be parading her dog?' Barry asked. He'd thought about that the other
day when Alice-Miranda had mentioned she was entering the show.

‘I'm not sure, but Darius thinks she's a shoo-in for Best in Show,' Myrtle said, enjoying the look of horror on the man's face.

‘Did he really say that?' Barry asked.

Myrtle nodded. ‘He said that everyone is going to be so happy to see her, there'd have to be something terribly awry with her dog not to win.'

Barry set his teacup down, his complexion suddenly pale.

‘Are you all right, Barry?' Reg asked.

‘I'd better be going – I said I'd help Roberta this afternoon,' the man said. He gave a wave and disappeared out the door.

‘You shouldn't have said that, Myrtle,' Reg chided.

Myrtle looked at her husband blankly. ‘What did I say?'

‘You know full well that Roberta takes her showing very seriously and now poor Barry will be in an even bigger spin, worrying about how things will go for her,' Reg said.

‘I was only telling him what Darius had told me,' Myrtle insisted.

Reg frowned at his wife. ‘Gossiping.'

‘That wasn't gossip, Reginald. I was just repeating what I'd been told. Now, did you manage to get dinner started while I was out working? I'm starving and I shouldn't have to make our tea on top of everything else there is to do.'