Clementine Rose and the Perfect Present 3 (4 page)

Uncle Digby pushed open the door and the little bell tinkled. Clementine skipped in ahead of him to the toasty warmth of the shop. Today it smelt like hot pies and cinnamon. The old man pulled Lady Clarissa’s shopping list from his coat pocket while Clementine went straight to the counter.

Margaret Mogg walked through from the flat that was attached to the back of the building.

‘Hello there, Clementine,’ she greeted the child warmly. ‘And what can I do for you today?’

‘Hello Mrs Mogg. Uncle Digby has a list and Mummy asked if I could collect the mail,’ Clementine said importantly.

‘Of course.’ Mrs Mogg turned to the pigeonholes behind the counter. Everyone in the village had their own little cubbyhole for the mail, as there was no postman in Penberthy Floss. ‘Well, that’s odd.’ She peered into the empty space. ‘Nothing here at all, Clementine.’

Clemmie frowned. She didn’t want to think about Angus’s stupid party any more. She wasn’t going and that was that.

Mrs Mogg thought it was very unusual. In fact, she couldn’t remember a day when there’d been no mail for Lady Clarissa. The woman was always winning competitions and seemed to get an awful lot of bills too.

Mrs Mogg walked back to the counter and looked over at Clementine. ‘How are things coming along at the house?’

‘Very well, thank you. The marquee is up. That’s a fancy name for the tent,’ Clementine explained. ‘And Mr Smote is decorating it inside and he’s even put two giant lions at the entrance to stand guard.’

Mrs Mogg gasped and put her hand to her mouth. ‘Lions?’

‘Oh, they’re not real. They’re made of stone. Uncle Digby said that it’s probably got something to do with the man who’s getting married. He’s from another country, and they have lions on their flag,’ Clementine explained.

‘Ah yes, your mother said that he was Sri Lankan, so that makes sense. I wonder if the bride will wear a white gown or a sari,’ Mrs Mogg said.

‘What’s that?’ Clementine asked.

‘Saris are beautiful, Clemmie. They’re sort of like a wraparound dress but far more complicated and with thousands of sparkles on the fabric,’ said Mrs Mogg.

‘Can you make one for me?’ Clementine asked.

‘I don’t think so, dear. They’re very specialised.’

Clementine was disappointed. She liked the idea of a dress with thousands of sparkles on it.

The doorbell tinkled and Clementine was surprised to see Joshua from school and his mother.

‘Good afternoon, Mrs Tribble,’ the shopkeeper called.

‘Oh hello, Mrs Mogg,’ the woman replied. Joshua raced to the counter, his eyes scanning the lolly jars, which contained all manner of treats. He didn’t even notice Clementine standing beside him.

His mother reached the counter too. ‘I was wondering if you had any cardboard. I have to make his royal highness here a crown for Tuesday.’ Mrs Tribble glanced at her son, who was attempting to lift the lid on the container of red frogs.

‘It’s for Angus’s party,’ Joshua said. ‘I’m going to be a king.’

Clementine felt as if she’d been slugged in the tummy. She decided to go and find Uncle Digby before Joshua noticed her.

‘Are you going too, Clementine?’ Mrs Mogg asked.

Clemmie quickly shook her head.

‘Oh, that’s a pity. It must be for the boys,’ the old woman said.

‘No. It’s for girls too. Everyone’s going.’ Joshua looked at Clementine, and then poked out his tongue at her.

He didn’t realise that his mother was watching. She placed her hand firmly on his shoulder. ‘Joshua Tribble, last time I looked you were a boy, not a lizard. Apologise at once.’

This time Joshua’s mouth stayed closed.

His mother tightened her grip.

‘Ow!’ Joshua complained. ‘You’re hurting me.’

The woman leaned down and whispered something into his ear.

‘Sorry,’ he spat.

‘I didn’t hear you,’ Mrs Tribble said through gritted teeth.

Joshua folded his arms and said with a scowl, ‘Sorry, Clementine.’

Clementine said nothing.

Mrs Mogg rubbed her hands together. ‘Ahem. Right then. The cardboard is just over in the school supplies.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Mogg.’ Mrs Tribble grabbed Joshua’s hand and headed for the middle of the shop.

‘But you said I could have a lolly,’ the boy whined.

Clementine couldn’t hear exactly what Mrs Tribble said but she thought it sounded like she was going to give him something else.

‘Why don’t you have a look at some of the lovely new fabrics that came in last week, Clementine?’ Mrs Mogg suggested with a smile.

Clementine nodded. Her tummy still didn’t feel right, but she walked to the far corner of the shop, where Mrs Mogg kept all of the material, buttons and threads.

Everyone in the village knew about Clemmie’s sense of style. Her mother didn’t know where it came from, given that the child had arrived in a basket of dinner rolls and been adopted by Lady Clarissa. Clementine and Mrs Mogg shared a love of pretty things. The elderly woman had made Clementine lots of dresses and other bits and pieces over the years. Mr and Mrs Mogg had never had any children, so Clementine was the closest thing they had to a granddaughter and they adored her.

‘How are you getting on back there, Digby?’ Mrs Mogg called. ‘Is there anything I can help you with?’

Mrs Mogg’s shop was always pleasantly heated but today Digby Pertwhistle felt as if he’d walked into a blast furnace. Tiny beads of perspiration formed on his temples and he hastily wiped them away with the back of his hand.

‘Yes, thank you, Margaret,’ he called back. ‘Would you mind locating me some lemon-coloured soap?’

A few minutes later, with Mrs Mogg’s help, Uncle Digby had managed to find everything on Clarissa’s list and was now standing at the counter packing them into his grocery bag.

‘Are you all right, Digby?’ Mrs Mogg noticed that his face had turned a rather horrible shade of grey and he seemed to be sweating.

‘Yes, it’s just a bit warm in here.’ He removed his scarf and used it to mop his brow.

‘Well, take care of yourself. The last thing Lady Clarissa needs is you getting sick. And tell her I’ll be there first thing in the morning to help. Clyde can look after this place for the day.’ She was referring to her husband, who preferred watching television to serving in the shop.

Clementine heard Uncle Digby and Mrs Mogg talking and hurried back to them.

‘Did you see anything you liked, Clemmie?’ the old woman asked.

Clementine shrugged.

‘Are you sad about that party?’ Mrs Mogg whispered as she leaned forward on the counter.

‘A little bit,’ Clementine replied.

‘Never mind, sweetheart. We can’t all go to everything. And no one else is having a wedding at their home this weekend, are they?’

Clementine smiled. ‘No, that’s true. And I do like the red material with the spots.’

‘Ah, that’s my girl. I thought you might like that one. Goodbye dear.’ Mrs Mogg turned to Uncle Digby. ‘And take care of yourself.’

The old man nodded. ‘See you tomorrow, Margaret.’

Clementine, Lavender and Digby Pertwhistle walked up the front driveway just as a black station wagon reversed into one of the parking spaces.

‘Looks like some of the guests have arrived early,’ Uncle Digby said with a worried look. He had struggled to keep up with Clementine and Lavender on the way home and was feeling far worse than earlier. He was cross with himself for getting sick, and today of all days.

Clementine ran ahead and greeted the dark-haired man who hopped out of the car. ‘Hello. Are you here for the wedding?’

‘Yes. My brother’s the groom. Are you here for the wedding too?’ he asked, wondering if the child was a friend of the bride’s family.

‘No, I live here with Mummy and Uncle Digby and Lavender.’ She motioned towards the pig, which was snuffling about beside her.

‘Oh, you’re a lucky girl then,’ the man replied.

‘Except when it rains,’ Clementine said.

The man looked at her curiously. ‘I don’t quite follow.’

Clementine remembered that her mother had told her to stop telling the guests about the leaking roof so she changed the subject. ‘It doesn’t matter. Are you on your own?’

‘No, my wife and children are upstairs getting settled. They’ll be thrilled to meet you. And you –’ He bent down to give Lavender a scratch. ‘I don’t think the children have ever seen a pet pig before.’

‘She’s a teacup,’ Clementine said. ‘Well, she’s a lot bigger than that now.’

‘Hello there.’ Uncle Digby puffed as he caught up. ‘Welcome to Penberthy House. I’m Digby Pertwhistle.’

Just as Uncle Digby said his name, he let out a gasp of air and collapsed to the ground, scattering the groceries all over the place.

‘Uncle Digby!’ Clementine shouted.

The guest swung into action. ‘Run and tell your mother to phone for an ambulance.’

Clementine’s face crumpled.

‘Don’t worry. I’m a doctor.’ He smiled at her kindly and then turned his attention to Uncle Digby, who looked as if he was asleep.

Clementine raced up the front steps and into the house. ‘Mummy, Mummy,’ she called as she ran into the kitchen. Her mother was stirring something on the stove.

Lady Clarissa turned around. ‘What is it, Clemmie?’

Clementine’s words spilled out in a panicky rush. ‘It’s Uncle Digby. He’s fallen down outside and the man said you need to get an ambulance.’ Her mother raced to the telephone and dialled the emergency number. She gave the house’s name and address and ran to the front door.

Digby Pertwhistle didn’t remember falling over. But now when he tried to lift his head, the whole world seemed to be spinning.

‘Mr Pertwhistle you need to lie still,’ the man beside him instructed.

‘What happened?’ Digby asked, holding his hand to his head.

‘I’m not sure but we must get you to the hospital for a check-up.’

‘No, I can’t possibly leave now. There’s far too much to do.’ Uncle Digby’s chest tightened and the words came out as a wheeze.

‘Oh, thank heavens,’ Lady Clarissa exclaimed as she reached the pair and saw that Uncle Digby was conscious. ‘Is he all right, Dr Gunalingam?’

The man was looking at his watch and taking Uncle Digby’s pulse. ‘Well, he’s awake, but I’m not prepared to take any chances. Is the ambulance on its way?’

‘Yes, it will be here soon.’

‘Is Uncle Digby going to be okay?’ Clementine asked.

‘Yes, darling, I’m sure he’ll be just fine. Can you run upstairs and ask Aunt Violet to come down? Someone needs to go with Uncle Digby to the hospital. And take Lavender inside too,’ Lady Clarissa instructed.

In the distance, a siren began to wail.

Clementine called the little pig, who came racing to the front door with her lead bumping along the ground behind her. Clementine ran up the main stairs to the third floor. She barged straight into the Blue Room.

‘Aunt Violet,’ she said, puffing.

‘Haven’t you heard of knocking? It’s not new, you know.’

Clementine ran back to the door and rapped on it sharply.

‘What now?’ the old woman grumbled. ‘Can’t you see I was reading?’

‘It’s Uncle Digby. He fell down outside and the ambulance is coming,’ Clemmie blurted. ‘Mummy wants you to go to the hospital with him.’

‘Well, why didn’t you say so?’

Clementine was confused. She did say so.

Aunt Violet sprang into action. She stood up, smoothed her trousers and shoved her feet into her leopard-print ballet flats. Clementine had never seen her great-aunt move so quickly.

‘Come on then, what are you waiting for?’ the old woman asked Clementine. ‘An invitation?’

Together they rushed down the stairs and out the door. At the front of the house, they saw Uncle Digby lying on the ground, covered by a throw rug that Clarissa had retrieved from the sitting room.

‘What’s the matter with him?’ Aunt Violet demanded. She stared at Digby, whose eyes were wide open and staring back up at her. ‘I thought you were dying.’

‘Sorry to disappoint you, Miss Appleby.’

‘Well, are you sick? Or did you just fall over?’ she asked tightly.

Clarissa took her aunt by the arm and guided her away from Uncle Digby and the doctor.

‘Dr Gunalingam thinks Uncle Digby might have something wrong with his heart,’ Lady Clarissa whispered. ‘I don’t want to frighten Clementine but one of us has to go to the hospital with him.’

Aunt Violet pursed her lips. ‘Don’t look at me. I’m not having Pertwhistle die on my watch.’

‘I don’t think that will happen but if you’re not prepared to go then you’ll have to stay here and greet the guests. There are quite a few groups about to arrive,’ Clarissa explained.

Aunt Violet was about to tell Lady Clarissa that she couldn’t possibly be left in charge when the ambulance roared into the driveway with the lights flashing and siren blaring.

Clementine was sitting beside Uncle Digby holding his hand.

The old man managed a weak smile. ‘Don’t look so worried, Clemmie. I’ll be fine.’

‘But I don’t want you to go, Uncle Digby.’ Tears spilled onto her cheeks.

He squeezed Clemmie’s hand. ‘Darling girl, it’s just a check-up. I’ll be back before you’ve had time to miss me. I can’t leave your mother and Aunt Violet with all of the wedding preparations now, can I?’