Clementine Rose and the Movie Magic 9 (5 page)

‘Are you happy in the Marigold Room, Mr Doncaster?' Lady Clarissa enquired as she met the man in the front hall.

‘Yes, it's very comfortable, thank you,' Alfie replied, clutching his briefcase in his left hand. ‘Now, where shall we start?'

‘Please follow me.' Lady Clarissa smiled at him nervously, wondering about the contents of his briefcase. She had decided it was best to begin from the bottom and work their way up.
They would start with the sitting room then move to the dining room and the music room, before ending up in the library once filming had finished for the day.

Clarissa pushed open the double doors to the sitting room and led the way inside.

‘This is a lovely room,' Mr Doncaster said, admiring the plump floral couches and grand fireplace with its sandstone surround. ‘I imagine much of the furniture is original.'

‘Yes, that little table –' Clarissa pointed at a very pretty piece – ‘was a wedding gift to my grandparents from King Frederick, Queen Georgiana's father.'

‘How fascinating.' Alfie Doncaster sat his briefcase on the floor and took a pair of white gloves from his jacket pocket. He pulled them on and then ran a forefinger along the table.

The woman watched as he held up his hand and inspected the tip of the glove.

‘A promising start,' Mr Doncaster declared.

He proceeded to the mantelpiece and did the same, then worked his way around the
room, checking every hard surface, including the windowsills and skirting boards.

‘I must say, Lady Clarissa,' Mr Doncaster said, studying the glove closely, ‘I can't see a speck of dust and that is no mean feat given the age of this place.'

He then produced his shine-o-meter and ran it over the timber furniture, smiling at the result.

Clarissa exhaled with relief. She watched with fascination as the man pulled a small hand-held vacuum from his briefcase and unscrewed the telescopic handle.

He pressed a switch and the motor whirred to life. Once again Mr Doncaster walked around the room, this time vacuuming the lounges and curtains and several spots on the carpet. When he was satisfied that he'd taken enough care with his samples, he pulled the contraption apart and examined the filter inside.

The man gave her a nod of approval. ‘Congratulations, Lady Clarissa, I'm very impressed.'

He set down the vacuum and took out a clipboard, on which he wrote several notes.

‘Well, I think we're finished in here,' Mr Doncaster said. ‘Where are we off to next?'

‘The dining room. It's just across the hall,' Lady Clarissa said, turning to lead the way.

Mr Doncaster's eyes were everywhere as they continued the tour. Clarissa opened the dining-room door and, just as she did, a terrible smell invaded her nostrils. She couldn't possibly pull another door shut on the man's face but she had to do something. Her mind raced.

‘Actually, Mr Doncaster, it might be better to go to the music room first,' she said, trying not to sound desperate. ‘I think today's filming will be over earlier than Basil had first anticipated, so we could go straight from the music room to the library next door.'

‘No, no, we're here now, so let's get on with it.' The man barged past her. ‘And don't look so nervous, Lady Clarissa. From what I see you've got nothing to – oh, pooh! What's that awful smell?'

Lady Clarissa rushed after him. ‘I have no idea,' she gulped.

‘Well, we must find the source immediately,' the man said dramatically. He placed his briefcase on the sideboard and flicked the locks, pulling out a disposable face mask. He then put on a fresh pair of rubber gloves.

‘Would you like a mask and gloves, Lady Clarissa?' he mumbled through the covering. ‘I have spares.'

Clarissa shook her head, mystified.

‘Suit yourself.' Alfie Doncaster walked around the room, checking all surfaces. He then knelt down and lifted the mask up onto his forehead. Lady Clarissa was horrified when he began sniffing the carpet.

‘Mr Doncaster, I can assure you, our carpets are steam-cleaned every three months – and sometimes more often if they need it,' she said.

But the man was like a bloodhound, down on all-fours with his tail in the air.

Just as Alfie's bottom was poking out from under the dining-room table, Aunt Violet and Clementine walked into the room.

‘Excuse me, Clarissa,' Aunt Violet began. ‘Godfathers, what's that ghastly smell? And what's he doing under there?'

Lady Clarissa's whole body tensed. She began waving wildly at her aunt and daughter, hoping they would get the message and leave.

‘We've finished for today, Mummy,' Clementine said, pinching her nose. ‘Can Drew take me and Will to see Lavender and Pharaoh, please? We want to make some more of our movie.'

‘It's “Will and I”, Clementine,' Aunt Violet corrected the girl. ‘Will and I.'

Clementine sighed. ‘Sorry, Aunt Violet.'

Lady Clarissa nodded. ‘Yes, run along while I help Mr Doncaster with this little problem.'

‘Check under the sideboard,' Aunt Violet whispered. ‘I saw Lavender making her way out of here early this morning before breakfast.'

‘Lavender wouldn't poo on the carpet, Aunt Violet!' Clementine said loudly.

At the mention of poo, Alfie Doncaster's ears pricked up. He raised his head too quickly and bashed it on the underside of the table as
he backed out. ‘Ow!' he complained, rubbing his crown.

‘Are you all right, Mr Doncaster?' Lady Clarissa rushed to him, shooing Aunt Violet and Clementine from the room with a flutter of her hand.

‘Who's Lavender?' Mr Doncaster asked.

‘She's my teacup piggy,' Clementine said.

‘A pig, you say? Do you mean a toy pig?' Mr Doncaster asked, his left eyebrow rising so high it looked as if it were about to fly right off the top of his forehead.

Clementine shook her head. ‘Lavender's real. She's just miniature, that's all.'

‘And where is she now?' Mr Doncaster asked, glaring at Lady Clarissa.

The woman cleared her throat and was about to say something when Clementine jumped in. ‘She and Pharaoh are having a sleepover with Flash at Basil and Ana's.'

Lady Clarissa gave her daughter a deflated look.

‘Just until you …' Clementine saw her mother's face and clamped her hand over her mouth, but it was too late.

‘Clemmie, you don't want to keep Drew and Will waiting, do you?' Lady Clarissa said, willing Clementine to leave before she said anything else that could ruin them.

‘No, I think you should stay right here, Clementine,' Alfie Doncaster said. ‘You're a very honest little girl.'

Clementine swallowed hard and gave a small nod.

The man sniffed the air. His nose led him to the sideboard, where he quickly got down on all-fours again and stuck his head under the piece of furniture. ‘I have found the source of the offending smell,' he announced.

Clementine bent down to take a look. ‘It's a poo,' she said, wrinkling her nose.

Alfie Doncaster whipped what appeared to be a retractable pooper scooper from his back pocket and nimbly removed the smelly surprise.

Clementine shook her head. ‘That's not a pig poo. It's much too big. It looks like one of Pharaoh's.'

Lady Clarissa pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead.

‘I presume Pharaoh is a dog,' Mr Doncaster said. He popped the poop into a little plastic bag, sealing the evidence.

‘No, he's a cat but he looks more like an alien,' Clementine said, ‘and he never goes to the toilet anywhere except his litter box. That's the truth.'

Mr Doncaster shook his head gravely. ‘It's a very serious offence to find animal waste inside a public establishment. I need to know exactly where your pets are allowed to go.'

‘Please, I can explain,' Lady Clarissa began. ‘This has never happened before. I can assure you.' She opened one of the dining-room windows to air the room. ‘Clementine, you and Aunt Violet run along and I'll see you both at dinner.'

‘Mummy's telling the truth, Mr Doncaster,' Clementine said as she and her great-aunt
exited the room. The pair of them almost barrelled over Ms Spencer.

‘What were you doing?' Aunt Violet demanded. She could have sworn the woman had had her ear to the door.

Finley smiled sweetly. ‘Hello there. I've just returned from the most glorious run – five miles around the entire village. It really is lovely out.'

‘You must be a good runner,' Clementine said, impressed.

‘Why, thank you,' Finley replied.

‘Old people always get really sweaty and red in the face, but you look as if you've just had a shower and a stroll around the garden,' Clementine added.

Aunt Violet's lips contorted as she controlled a smile.

‘You're a frank little thing, aren't you? I'll have you know I'm not
that
old,' Finley smirked. She gestured to the dining room. ‘Is everything all right in there?'

‘That's none of your business,' Aunt Violet snapped.

‘There's no need for that sort of attitude.' Finley Spencer pursed her lips. ‘I was just concerned. I thought someone sounded upset.'

Clementine tugged on her great-aunt's sleeve. The woman bent down and Clementine cupped her hand to Aunt Violet's ear. ‘Please don't be mean to her, or she'll give Mummy a bad report too.'

Aunt Violet rolled her eyes and mumbled an apology, but there was something about the woman that didn't sit right with her. As Clementine pointed out, for someone who'd just been for a five-mile run, there wasn't a make-up streak or a hair out of place on their guest's perfectly coiffed head.

Finley Spencer strode away upstairs, muttering something about it being hard to get good service these days.

‘Come along, Clementine, how about I go with you and the others for a walk?' Aunt Violet suggested. ‘I don't think any of us want to be in the house for a while.'

Finley Spencer stopped on the landing as she listened to the old woman's plans. She'd be very pleased to have the house almost to herself.

Clementine panned the camera around the kitchen, where Basil, Ana, Aunt Violet and Drew were drinking coffee. Tilda, Teddy and Will were sitting at the breakfast bar enjoying mugs of hot chocolate.

‘Please, Clementine, stop pointing that wretched thing at me,' Aunt Violet protested. ‘I must look dreadful.'

‘You look the same as always, Aunt Violet,' Clementine said.

‘Well, excuse you,' the old woman huffed.

Clementine frowned. ‘I meant you always look lovely.'

‘Oh, that's all right then,' the old woman said.

Ana and Drew smiled at one another and Basil winked at them.

‘Could we go into the garden and shoot some more scenes of Lavender playing soccer?' Clementine asked.

‘That sounds like a marvellous idea,' Aunt Violet said. ‘Off you go. Shoo!'

‘I'll get the ball,' Tilda said, as she raced into the hallway to the stairs.

‘Ask Mintie if she wants to play too,' Ana called after her. ‘I think she's in her room reading.'

‘Come on,' Teddy said to Will. ‘We can take Flash, but I think he's going to have to be the cheer squad. He's too slow to be in the game.'

The boy picked up the tortoise from his little compound in the utility room, and Clementine beckoned Lavender to go with her. Pharaoh was sound asleep on the couch.

Within a couple of minutes the shouts of gleeful children could be heard in the garden and the adults were left to have a quieter conversation.

‘Have you been through that box of photo graphs yet?' Basil asked Aunt Violet. ‘I'd love to have a few of those pictures for the film.'

Aunt Violet shook her head. ‘I'm afraid Clarissa has her hands full with Mr Doncaster's unexpected visit,' she replied. ‘Leave it with me and I'll see if there are any you can use.'

‘There is one thing I've been wondering,' Basil said tentatively.

Violet Appleby's face drained of all its colour. She hoped it wasn't the question she'd been dreading since Clarissa had agreed to him making the stupid film.

‘Where is your daughter these days?'

‘That's none of your concern,' Aunt Violet said sharply, ‘and you're not to discuss it in the film, or I will make sure it
never
sees the light of day.'

Drew and Ana glanced at one another.

‘I am sorry, Aunt Violet, I should have spoken to you privately,' Basil said.

‘No, Basil, you shouldn't have spoken about it
at all
.' Aunt Violet took a large gulp of her coffee. ‘I need to get going. Drew can bring Clementine.'

Violet Appleby walked to the sink and tipped the last of the coffee down the drain.

‘Thank you, Ana,' she said quietly, and slipped through the door into the front hall, exiting the cottage as fast as she could.

Tears streamed down the old woman's face as she walked home. The last time she had seen Eliza was almost thirty years ago when, as an eight-year-old child, she had gone to live in Sweden with her father. Violet had tried to keep in touch but her daughter wouldn't reply to her letters or calls, and over time Violet had come to accept that the only person she had ever truly loved was gone from her life forever. She had no idea where Eliza was now, but that didn't mean she had disappeared from Violet's thoughts. On the contrary, there
were days when it felt as if someone had torn her heart from her chest and replaced it with a frozen stone.

Clarissa had only ever mentioned her cousin once but Violet's explosive reaction had ensured that the woman would never do so again. Basil was bound to find the birth certificate – he was a documentary filmmaker after all. It was his job to do research and get the facts. This was just one fact Aunt Violet would have preferred he miss.

Clarissa looked up from where she was busy chopping vegetables for dinner. ‘Hello Aunt Violet. Where's Clemmie?'

‘She's still at Basil's,' Aunt Violet sniffed. ‘Drew will bring her back later. I'm going to bed. My head is pounding.'

Clarissa wondered if something had happened. ‘Mr Doncaster said that he's not going to record the earlier incident,' she reported.
‘It took me quite a while to convince him that we've never had that problem before. Fortunately, the rest of the house was spotless apart from a pile of pencil shavings in the music room, which I'll speak to Clementine about when she gets back. And he would like Lavender and Pharaoh to come home so he can see how they behave in the house.'

‘Good, good,' Aunt Violet said absently. ‘Could you bring me some tea, Clarissa? I shan't be joining you for dinner, but I'll have googy-eggs and soldiers in my room at seven.'

Clarissa rolled her eyes. She'd telephone Basil to ask if Clementine and the others wouldn't mind bringing the pets home with them. She was also keen to find out if there had been anything odd happen while Aunt Violet was there.

The woman finished chopping the last carrot and wiped her hands on her apron. Uncle Digby was setting the dining table, having fumigated the room and scrubbed the patch of carpet where the offending item had been found.

Clarissa picked up the telephone and dialled Basil's number.

‘Hello Basil, Clarissa here,' she said. ‘Would you be able to send Lavender and Pharaoh home with Clementine? Our special visitor knows about them and he's asked to see them.'

There was a short pause as she listened to Basil. Clarissa then asked him if anything had happened with Aunt Violet.

‘Oh dear, that explains a bit. There is one other thing,' she said. She had almost forgotten with everything else that had been going on. ‘I had a look through those photographs and I think there are several you'll be able to use. But, even better, I found Granny's diary tucked in the bottom!'

There was a knock at the kitchen door.

‘Sorry, Basil, I have to go. See you soon,' Lady Clarissa said before hanging up.

She walked over and opened the door.

‘Hello, I was just wondering if I might get a cup of tea,' Finley Spencer asked.

Clarissa couldn't help thinking how attractive Ms Spencer was with her creamy skin and honey-coloured hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Dressed in dark jeans and a crisp white shirt, the woman looked as if she could have stepped straight from the pages of a magazine. Everything about her looked expensive – from the diamond-encrusted watch to the enormous emerald ring on her finger.

Clarissa wondered why Ms Spencer had chosen to have her holiday at Penberthy House. She looked like the sort of woman who'd have felt much more at home in a five-star establishment, not their funny old hotel. Clarissa pushed the thought away. It was none of her business, really, and who was she to complain about having house guests?

‘Certainly, Ms Spencer. I'll bring it to you in the sitting room,' Lady Clarissa replied.

The woman was looking over Clarissa's shoulder as if searching for something.

‘Can I help you with anything else?' Clarissa asked.

‘Oh no,' Finley said, smiling sweetly, ‘I'm just fascinated by big old piles like this one. I was keen to see what the kitchen looked like.'

‘You're welcome to come in and have a look.' Lady Clarissa opened the door further, and in a blink, the woman had pushed her way inside.

‘Ooh, may I have a peek in here?' Finley called, already helping herself to a tour of the pantry.