Clementine Rose and the Surprise Visitor 1 (8 page)

T
he children had a wonderful afternoon setting up camp in the library. Lavender played hide and seek, running in and out from under the bedsheets that the girls were using to make their tents. Clementine convinced Uncle Digby to light a fire in the library hearth. She told him that a camp wasn’t ‘proper’ unless there was a camp fire and, besides, a chill breath of wind was swirling through the house, a sign of a storm to come. Late in the afternoon, Mrs Mogg appeared with a delivery of groceries for Lady Clarissa including a giant packet of marshmallows and some extra-long skewers.

By half past five, when Lady Clarissa brought their tea, Clementine, Sophie and Jules had transformed a corner of the enormous library using sheets, pegs and various bits of furniture. Clementine and Sophie had set up their beds under the desk, with a sheet over the top. Jules had a much more elaborate tent. It hung from the gallery upstairs and draped over a padded bench seat, giving him enough space inside to lie down or stand up.

‘Well hello, my adventurers,’ Lady Clarissa called as she carried in a tray with three plates of creamy scrambled eggs on hot buttered toast. Digby Pertwhistle followed close behind with three steaming mugs of hot chocolate and a bowl of vegetables for Lavender.

‘Hello Mummy, hello Uncle Digby.’ Clementine poked her head out from under the desk and greeted the pair. ‘Do you like our camp site? We’re on safari in Africa.’

‘Yes, darling, it’s wonderful,’ Lady Clarissa said, smiling as she surveyed Clementine’s stuffed toys, which the children had positioned around the room. ‘Look at all those animals! And I love the way you’ve made your tent two-storeys, Jules. That’s terribly clever.’

‘I love camping at your house,’ Jules replied. ‘It’s much better than when Papa took us to Gertrude’s Grove for a weekend and it rained and rained and our tent had a hole in the roof. At least in here, we won’t get wet.’

‘Don’t bet on it, young man.’ Digby Pertwhistle set his tray on a small table beside the desk. ‘I heard the forecast was for storms tonight and I was about to get some buckets. Depending on how bad it gets, you might have a drip or two right above your head.’

‘Just a couple of drips are okay. On our camping trip we were soaked and Mama said that it was the most terrible weekend of her life,’ said Jules as he straightened the sheet.

‘All right, big game hunters, come and have your supper while it’s hot,’ Clarissa called.

‘We’re not hunters, Mummy,’ Clementine said. ‘We’re wildlife photographers. See?’ She reached under the desk and passed her mother an old Polaroid camera.

‘Heavens, where did you find that?’ Clarissa took it from her daughter and examined the contraption, before giving it back.

‘Uncle Digby found it and it still works,’ said Clementine. She pointed the camera at her mother, snapped the shutter and a photograph whirred out of the front of the machine.

‘Gosh, I think I won that when I was a teenager. I haven’t seen it for years but at the time I thought it was the fanciest thing going.’ Clarissa laughed at the memory. ‘Well, I hope you find some elephants and tigers and maybe even a lion or two in here tonight. But save your shots for the most exciting things because I think the film runs out quite quickly.’

Jules clasped the front of his tent together with two clothes pegs and joined the girls near the fire.

‘Would you like Uncle Digby to come back and tell you a story later?’ said Clarissa with a wink at the old man. ‘When I was a little girl he used to tell me wonderful tales about African safaris.’

Digby Pertwhistle shook his head. ‘Oh, my dear, I think I’ve almost forgotten about my African adventures.’

‘No!’ Clementine Rose complained. ‘Please tell us a story, Uncle Digby.’

‘Yes, please, Uncle Digby,’ Sophie added.

Lavender looked up and grunted.

‘See, everyone wants you to,’ Jules insisted.

‘Well, eat your supper and I’ll be back with the marshmallows in a little while,’ Digby agreed.

Clarissa and Digby retreated to the kitchen and left the children to eat their fireside feast.

A branch outside banged against the window as the wind picked up speed.

‘I hate storms,’ said Sophie.

‘I love them,’ Clementine said, as she loaded her fork with a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

‘You have to be brave, Sophie,’ her brother told her. ‘Like Clementine. The storm can’t hurt you.’

‘But I don’t like the lightning and the thunder,’ his sister said. ‘It sounds like a giant in a bad temper.’

‘I think it’s a giant having a party,’ Clementine replied. ‘Anyway, tonight we’re together so nothing can hurt us.’

Jules raised his mug of hot chocolate in the air. ‘Let’s have a toast to our camping safari.’

Clementine raised her mug and nudged Sophie to do the same.

‘To our camping safari,’ the girls chorused. Lavender snorted happily.

A
t half past eight, after a wonderful tale about mischief-making monkeys and a hippo who liked to eat liquorice, the children brushed their teeth and crawled into their makeshift beds. Outside, the rain had begun to splatter against the windows but within minutes the only noise inside the tents was the shallow breathing of little bodies and a small squeak coming from Lavender, who was also fast asleep.

Clarissa peeked in on the group, switched off the children’s torches and closed the library door.

Aunt Violet had stayed in her room for the rest of the day. Clarissa had taken her a tea tray of boiled eggs and toasty soldiers for her supper, but Violet was fast asleep. Beside her, Pharaoh opened one eye and stared at his hostess, then curled his lip. Clarissa thought Clementine was quite right when she said that he was the strangest creature she’d ever seen.

Clarissa looked at the bags and clothes covering the room. Her aunt certainly had a lot of luggage with her. She walked over to straighten the cushions on the chaise longue and noticed a letter on the desk.

Clarissa leaned in to take a closer look, scanning the page. She glanced towards the bed where her aunt slept. ‘So that’s why you’re here,’ she whispered. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have nowhere to go. And while Aunt Violet was a lot of things, cranky and rude being top of the list, she was also family.

Just after 10 pm, Digby Pertwhistle retired to his room. It wasn’t long afterwards that Lady Clarissa made a final check on the children and went up to bed too.

Outside, the wind was beginning to howl. A loose shutter on the far end of the house had started to bang and Clarissa hoped that it didn’t wake anyone. She hated the thought of having to go and attend to it in her nightdress, but it wouldn’t be the first time. Overhead, thunder rumbled but down in the library the children slept without stirring.

Clementine was in the middle of a lovely dream about her grandpa. She was telling him a new poem she had learned when suddenly lightning tore open the darkness and filled the library with light. She awoke with a start and felt as if she was falling through a giant hole in the sky.

It took her a few moments to remember where she was.

Clementine lay awake under the desk as the light flickered around her. Goosebumps suddenly sprang up along her arms. It wasn’t just the storm – she had a feeling there was someone else in the room. She crept to the edge of the tent and pulled open the sheets. A figure dressed in white stood at the end of the room. It had silver hair and bare feet and there was a glow coming from the end if its arm. Clementine wondered if it was one of her ancestors, perhaps from the portraits on the walls. She watched as the ghost pulled some books from the shelf. Clementine rubbed her eyes and wondered if she was still dreaming.

‘I knew it,’ a voice whispered. ‘I knew you were in here. And now you’re mine.’

It was the ghost speaking. Clementine reached for the camera beside her.

Sophie stirred. ‘What are you doing?’ she yawned.

‘Shhhh!’ Clementine pressed her finger against Sophie’s lips. ‘There’s a ghost out there.’

Sophie’s eyes widened. ‘A ghost? On our safari?’

‘I’m going to take its picture,’ Clementine whispered.

Sophie shook her head. ‘No!’

‘Stay here.’ Clementine began to crawl out from under the desk.

The ghost had its back to her. It turned around and at the same time a huge streak of lightning lit up the window and the whole library.

‘Oh!’ The ghost caught its breath. ‘Who’s there?’ it whispered urgently when it saw Jules’s two-storey tent.

Clementine crept in front of the white figure and pressed the button on the camera. The flash went off and Aunt Violet stood frozen to the spot.

‘You again! What are you doing?’ she demanded.

‘Phew!’ Clementine let out the breath she had been holding. ‘I thought you were a ghost, Aunt Violet!’

Sophie scrambled out from under the desk. ‘What’s that?’ she asked, pointing at Aunt Violet’s hand.

Jules was awake now too. He wriggled out of his tent to join the girls. The children had Violet surrounded.

‘Go back to sleep,’ she ordered. ‘You’re all dreaming. I am a ghost. You are asleep and I was never here. Now give me that.’ She reached out and tried to snatch the photograph that had whirred out of the old camera.