Alice-Miranda in Paris 7 (21 page)

Jacinta woke up and wondered what time it was. There was a dull throb in her toe but the painkillers had obviously taken effect. From the sitting room, she could hear deep breathing punctuated by the occasional little grunt. Miss Reedy must have fallen asleep. Not wanting to wake her, Jacinta decided that she would head downstairs and see if Madame Crabbe might be able to make her a grilled cheese sandwich. Her stomach was making all sorts of grumbly noises, and she realised she hadn’t had any lunch.

She put on her dressing-gown and grabbed the crutches from beside her bed.

Jacinta poked her head around the bedroom door. Sure enough, Miss Reedy was sound asleep. She must have been marking books the whole time. There was one lying open on her lap next to half a cup of tea.

Jacinta managed to pick up her plastic key and fumble to the door and into the hallway without much noise at all. Soon the lift bell tinged and she was hobbling across the hotel reception.

‘Mademoiselle Jacinta, what are you doing out of bed?’ Monsieur Crabbe turned from where he was dusting the shelves behind the reception desk. ‘Does Mademoiselle Reedy know that you are down here?’

‘She’s asleep and I didn’t want to wake her.’

‘She will be worried if she wakes up and you are gone,’ Monsieur Crabbe admonished her. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I was feeling rather hungry and I wondered if I might be able to get a grilled cheese sandwich?’ Jacinta asked.

‘Ah, you are in great luck. Grilled cheese is my speciality. But of course, this is France, so I add a little ham and it becomes a
croque monsieur. Délicieux!
You must sit down there while I go and make it.’ Monsieur Crabbe pointed at one of the couches to the side of the room. ‘Then I will help you back upstairs so we do not upset your teacher.’

The man disappeared through the door behind the reception desk. Jacinta picked up a magazine on the coffee table in front of her and flicked through the pages. She recognised a whole lot of the Parisian landmarks they had visited but couldn’t read any of the text as it was all in French.

She was thinking about the mass at Notre Dame when the front door opened and a woman walked in.

‘Mummy?’ Jacinta said, frowning.

‘Oh, darling, there you are.’ Ambrosia flew across the room and hugged Jacinta tightly. ‘Tell me, are you all right? I heard that you had an accident and had to go to hospital.’ She stood back to survey the open boot on Jacinta’s leg.

‘I’m fine. But what are you doing here?’ Jacinta was very confused. ‘Cecelia Highton-Smith couldn’t even get you on the phone earlier.’

‘I saw Millie and Alice-Miranda when they were on their way to the mass at Notre Dame and they told me what had happened and I came straight here to see you.’

‘Yes, Mummy, but what are you doing in Paris?’ Jacinta glared at her mother.

‘I’m here on business.’

‘What business? You don’t have a business and if you’re here spending money that you haven’t got, Daddy will be so cross,’ Jacinta admonished.

‘It’s a surprise, darling. A good one,’ her mother replied. ‘I didn’t want to tell you until I’d really done something interesting, but I have a job.’

‘You have a
job
? What sort of a job?’ Jacinta was imagining her mother parading nanna knickers on the runway at one of the shows. She hoped it wasn’t the one they were singing at tomorrow. Surely not.

‘I’m working for Fashion Week,’ Ambrosia explained.

Jacinta’s stomach lurched. ‘You’re not modelling, are you?’

‘Me?’ Ambrosia laughed. ‘Are you joking? Oh darling, thank you for even thinking I could but heavens no. That would be too awful for words.’

Jacinta breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Then what are you doing?’

‘If I tell you, you’ve got to promise to keep things just between us. You can’t tell anyone, not even Alice-Miranda.’ Ambrosia looked her daughter in the eye. ‘Come to think of it, especially not Alice-Miranda.’

Jacinta was intrigued. Her mother seemed really excited and she couldn’t remember ever having seen her look so passionate – except when her father had given her a new sports car for her birthday, and even that wasn’t quite the same.

‘I think I’m about to unravel a huge mystery,’ Ambrosia began. She leaned in close and spoke quietly. ‘It’s very complicated but if I can get this right . . .’

Ambrosia explained everything. Jacinta was stunned.

‘It’s just that I still haven’t been able to find anything much about Dux LaBelle. He’s a complete mystery. Although I did visit his showroom – it was close to here I think, but I’m afraid all these streets look the same to me.’

‘Well, we saw a robbery on the day we arrived,’ said Jacinta, trying to one-up her mother in the shock stakes.

‘Oh my goodness. I knew it wasn’t safe for you young children to travel overseas,’ her mother fussed.

Jacinta rolled her eyes. ‘Mummy, we are perfectly safe – except around pétanque balls. Don’t you want to know about the robbery?’

‘Of course, darling,’ her mother cooed.

‘We were on our way to Notre Dame and three police cars sped into the road and Monsieur Fontaine came running out onto the street and said that he’d been robbed. We didn’t know it was him back then but it’s been on the news and we performed at his show. Well, sort of,’ Jacinta explained.

‘I love Christian’s gowns. They’re always so beautiful,’ her mother said. ‘And he’s such a sweet man.’

‘There’s a big article about him in here.’ Jacinta picked up the magazine she’d been browsing through before her mother arrived.

Ambrosia scanned the text but it was all written in French.

Jacinta pointed at one of the photographs. ‘Goodness, Mummy, that poor man is missing a finger.’

‘Darling, you’re a genius! I’d recognise that hand anywhere. That’s the man I was talking about earlier.’

Now all she had to figure out was what Gilbert, the man who showed her the LaBelle Collection, was doing in a photograph with Christian Fontaine.

‘This is the strangest church service I’ve ever been to,’ said Sloane as she glanced around. Notre Dame was bursting at the seams with dignitaries, designers and fashion fans. Some were dressed with understated elegance but others appeared to be competing to look the most ridiculous.

Sep nodded. ‘We don’t know what the service will be like, but the congregation is pretty interesting.’

‘Did you see the size of the bow on that woman’s head?’ asked Millie, giggling at a lady who was in danger of being swallowed by the polka dot appendage attached to her forehead.

‘And what about that guy over there with the lime green plus-fours and suspenders?’ Sloane was visibly disturbed by the outfit she had just glimpsed from behind.

‘That’s Mr Lipp,’ Millie whispered.

‘Are you joking?’ Sloane squinted, wondering if she and Millie were looking at the same person.

Despite the outrageous appearance of some of the congregation, the church service was very traditional. When the children sang their stunning rendition of ‘For the Beauty of the Earth’, the congregation was rapt.

‘Oh my goodness, look at those little cutie pies,’ one woman remarked.

‘But what is that man out the front wearing?’ the designer Christian Fontaine asked far more loudly than he had intended.

The Winchesterfield-Fayle teachers were seated in the pew in front of him. Ophelia Grimm turned around and murmured, ‘Yes, what indeed?’

The final chorus was something to behold. First was a beautiful arrangement of ‘Ave Maria’. Sloane sang the first verse solo. It was followed by an upbeat version of ‘Joyful Joyful’. The choristers executed some rather vigorous dance moves, with Ashima, Susannah, Ivory and Madeline adding their own special routine, which was quickly mimicked by the rest of the group. Alice-Miranda spotted two elderly priests bopping away in a corner and nudged Millie. The priests were in the Monseigneur’s direct line of sight too. The man drew in a great gasp of breath. It looked as if the fathers were about to be given extra confessional duties. Then he rocked about in his seat, laughing his head off.

During the rehearsals, Mr Trout’s organ skills had been recognised by the priest in charge of music in the cathedral. Now, as the service ended, Mr Trout had been given the honour of playing solo while the congregation left the church.

‘Well done, everyone,’ cheered Mr Lipp as he met the children outside. The fashion luminaries had exited through the front doors and were now besieged by hundreds of paparazzi all clamouring to get the best shot.

‘That was fun, Mr Lipp,’ said Figgy. The tall boy was grinning and re-enacting some of his earlier dance moves. ‘And your pants are wicked.’

‘That would be one word for them,’ Deidre Winterbottom whispered to Ophelia Grimm.

Cecelia Highton-Smith and her sister had sat with the Finkelsteins and Madame Crabbe. They had enjoyed the performance immensely and rushed through the crowds to congratulate the children.

‘Hello Mama, Papa,’ Lucinda greeted her parents. She had sat with Miss Grimm and Mrs Winterbottom close to the choir. ‘Did you have a good day?’

‘Hello Lucinda.’ Her father leaned down to kiss her cheek and her mother gave her a firm hug.

‘Yes, your father and I have had a wonderful day,’ Gerda replied. She held her hand up and Lucinda noticed a large blue stone sparkling on her mother’s middle finger.

‘Mama, what’s that?’ She grabbed her mother’s hand and admired the ring.

‘It’s about time your mother had a special anniversary present. Twenty years is long enough to put up with anyone, let alone me,’ said Morrie.

‘Morrie Finkelstein, you old charmer.’ Cecelia winked at him. Even Morrie’s brillo pad hair seemed to blush.

Ophelia Grimm was working at top speed to round up the overexcited choristers. Some were complaining of being hungry and it was getting late. Tomorrow would be a big day with the LaBelle show too. ‘I’m sorry to break up this happy party,’ she called to the families and friends, ‘but I’m afraid these children have to eat and we must get everyone back to the hotel. Of course, if you’re happy to eat cheese pizzas, you’re welcome to join us.’

Cecelia gave Alice-Miranda a final cuddle and said, ‘I think we’ll pass. I’ve got some calls to make.’

‘And I have work to do too,’ Charlotte added.

‘But we’ll see you all tomorrow at the Ritz. From what I could see of the flowers being delivered this afternoon, the LaBelle show is going to be spectacular,’ said Cecelia.

‘And we’ll pass too, Miss Grimm,’ Morrie Finkelstein said. ‘Lucinda’s bothers, Toby and Ezekiel, have arranged dinner for the family. I think they’ve walked every street in the Latin Quarter this afternoon looking for the best restaurant for us.’

Lucinda’s face fell. She would much rather spend the rest of the evening with Alice-Miranda and her new friends.

‘Lucinda,’ Gerda scolded, ‘please don’t look like that. You will see Alice-Miranda again. Your father managed to get tickets to the LaBelle show tomorrow.’

‘Oh! That’s fantastic.’ Alice-Miranda rushed forward and hugged her friend. Lucinda’s mood was vastly cheered by this news.

Final farewells were said and the children fell into their usual formation. As they followed Miss Grimm and Mr Grump through the backstreets of Saint Germain, Alice-Miranda found herself beside Mr Plumpton. Millie and Sloane were walking ahead and seemed engrossed in their conversation, so Alice-Miranda decided that it was the perfect opportunity to bring up a delicate topic.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ she said as she trotted beside him.

‘Yes, Alice-Miranda, how can I help?’

‘I was just thinking that it was so sad for Miss Reedy and Jacinta to miss out on tonight’s performance,’ she replied.

‘Yes, indeed. It was a beautiful service. Absolutely unique,’ Mr Plumpton said.

‘A bit like Miss Reedy and Jacinta,’ Alice-Miranda noted.

The teacher looked down at her with a puzzled expression. ‘I don’t quite follow.’

‘Well, the service this evening was unique and we all know there is no one else like Jacinta. She’s amazing at gymnastics and she’s funny and underneath all those tantrums she used to throw there’s a good friend with a heart of gold,’ Alice-Miranda explained.

‘Oh, I see,’ Mr Plumpton nodded.

‘And Miss Reedy is the cleverest English teacher in the world and she’s so kind and loyal,’ Alice-Miranda began.

‘And pretty.’ The words escaped from Mr Plumpton’s mouth before he had time to stop them.

Alice-Miranda grinned. ‘Mr Plumpton, did you just say what I think you did?’

‘Um, ah, yes I suppose I did,’ the teacher admitted, blushing.

‘May I say something, sir?’ The tiny child looked at him earnestly.

‘If you must.’ Mr Plumpton wondered what on earth she could possibly add to the conversation. He was feeling terribly embarrassed already.

‘Miss Reedy likes you too.’ Alice-Miranda winked and scurried off to catch up with Millie and Sloane.

Josiah Plumpton gulped. His nose glowed like Rudolf’s and inside he was fit to burst.

‘What are you looking so happy about, Plumpy?’ asked Mr Lipp as he caught up to him.

‘Just being in Paris, Mr Lipp. That’s enough to lift anyone’s spirits, I should think.’