Alice-Miranda in Paris 7 (6 page)

‘Ugly, did you say?’ Sloane added.

‘They’re certainly interesting,’ said Alice-Miranda. ‘And really different from the original buildings.’

‘We’ll be heading inside for a private guided tour,’ Miss Grimm informed the group. ‘Please stay together and if you do find yourself separated from the others, just ask anyone with a badge on and they will take you to the central meeting place.’

The children nodded.

‘Did you hear what I said, Mr Lipp?’ Miss Grimm asked the teacher, who seemed to be staring into the distance at something – or someone.

‘Sorry, Miss Grimm, what was that?’ he said.

‘Never mind. You’re a big boy, I’m sure you can look after yourself,’ said Miss Grimm. She’d decided there was no way he could get lost today, dressed in that mustard-coloured suit and bright pink cravat.

The children and teachers entered the enormous foyer. Alice-Miranda wandered over to speak to her Science teacher, who seemed lost in his thoughts. Millie joined them. ‘Are you enjoying the trip so far, Mr Plumpton?’

‘Oh, hello there, girls. Yes, yes it’s marvellous,’ he replied.

‘Is there anything in particular you’re looking forward to seeing in here?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

‘The
Mona Lisa
, of course,’ said Josiah Plumpton. ‘Leonardo da Vinci is something of a hero of mine.’

‘I didn’t realise you were interested in art,’ Millie said.

‘Mr da Vinci wasn’t just an artist, Millicent. He was a scientist and an inventor, an architect and a musician, among many other things,’ Mr Plumpton explained.

‘Oh, yes,’ Alice-Miranda piped up. ‘Can you believe he designed flying machines? His anatomical drawings were incredible too.’

‘Ah, I see we have a common interest,’ said Mr Plumpton, with a twinkle in his eye.

‘Yes, sir. My father is a huge fan too. Whenever there is an exhibition he usually takes me along,’ explained Alice-Miranda. ‘If ever anyone invents time travel, I think Daddy would be the first in line to go back and meet him.’

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Mr Plumpton said.

‘What are you two agreeing on?’ Miss Reedy asked as she joined the trio. That morning she had found herself monopolised once again by Mr Lipp. She had only just escaped, after Mr Trout had decided that he and Mr Lipp needed to discuss some of the finer points of rehearsals.

‘Alice-Miranda and Mr Plumpton have been comparing notes about Leonardo da Vinci,’ said Millie.

‘Yes, what a genius. I’m so looking forward to seeing the
Mona Lisa
this morning,’ Miss Reedy said.

‘You should walk with Mr Plumpton, then,’ Alice-Miranda suggested. ‘He’s an expert on Mr da Vinci.’

‘Oh, Alice-Miranda, I think you’re overstating things there. You seem to know an awful lot yourself.’

‘Yeah, you know heaps,’ Millie told Alice-Miranda.

‘No, Millie, Mr Plumpton knows so much
more
than I do. Miss Reedy would love to have such specialist knowledge, don’t you think?’ Alice-Miranda gave Millie a meaningful look.

Millie frowned. ‘Oh! Yes, of course. Miss Reedy, you should stay with Mr Plumpton. For the whole tour.’

‘You’re welcome to come with us too,’ Miss Reedy replied.

‘No, didn’t you have some things you wanted to talk to Mr Lipp about, Alice-Miranda?’ Millie asked her friend.

‘Yes, absolutely. I’ve wanted to get his attention all morning but he’s been so preoccupied. Let’s go and see him now, shall we?’ Alice-Miranda looked at Mr Plumpton and gave him a cheeky wink.

The man’s nose glowed red and he looked for a moment as if he might pass out.

‘See you later then, girls,’ said Miss Reedy. She felt a shy smile perch on her lips as she turned to Mr Plumpton.

‘Well, there are a few things I’d like to know about Mr da Vinci, if you’d be happy enough to allow me to accompany you.’

He bowed his head ever so slightly. ‘I’d be delighted.’

Miss Reedy blushed.

A few metres away, Mr Grump and Professor Winterbottom appeared with a lady dressed in a smart uniform.

‘Gather around, everyone,’ the professor called. ‘This is our tour guide, Brigitte. Be sure to watch her and listen to all her instructions.’

‘
Bonjour
,’ Brigitte smiled.

‘
Bonjour
,’ the group chorused.

‘Now, we have a lot to cover this morning and I would like to get to as many of the exhibits as possible . . .’

Alice-Miranda and Millie hovered close to Mr Lipp and Mr Trout, ready to swoop. They were quite certain they had enough questions to keep the man busy for the whole tour.

After two hours wandering through the world’s most incredible collection of art works, Brigitte led the group back to the cloakroom where the children collected their bags and awaited their next instructions.

Millie and Alice-Miranda hadn’t needed to use their intervention skills as Mr Trout had chewed Mr Lipp’s ear for the entire tour. The girls had hovered for a while, then upon deciding that Miss Reedy would be safe, they’d strolled about enjoying the art. ‘Well, the
Mona Lisa
was a
big
disappointment,’ Sloane announced.

‘Why do you say that?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

‘It’s so small. I was expecting something huge. And she’s got such a strange look on her face. As if she was expecting your room at the hotel and she got ours instead,’ Sloane said.

Alice-Miranda and Millie laughed.

‘I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,’ said Millie. ‘But I thought she was beautiful.’

‘Yes, imagine being clever enough to really see people the way Mr da Vinci did. He truly was a genius,’ Alice-Miranda added.

‘Where are we going next?’ Jacinta asked.

Cornelius Trout overheard Jacinta’s question and leaned in. ‘Some morning tea and then a rehearsal at the Hôtel Ritz, where you’ll be giving your final performance.’

‘The Ritz!’ Sloane exclaimed. ‘I’ve heard that’s gorgeous.’

‘Oh yes, it is,’ said Alice-Miranda. ‘Mummy and I stayed there last year when she brought me with her to the shows.’

‘What? It’s so not fair,’ Sloane grouched. ‘You’ve been everywhere, Alice-Miranda.’

Millie shook her head. ‘No, she hasn’t. She hasn’t been camping in our caravan down by the beach.’

‘That’s true. But maybe you’ll take me one day,’ said Alice-Miranda.

‘Yes, next time we go you can come,’ Millie agreed. ‘We can play on the beach all day and find pippies and go fishing. I love it down there. You could come too, Sloane and Jacinta, and we could pitch the big tent or sleep out under the stars.’

‘I’m in,’ Jacinta said.

Alice-Miranda, Millie and Sloane all stopped and stared at her. Sloane’s mouth dropped open.

‘What? It sounds like fun,’ Jacinta replied.

‘Seriously? You? Camping?’ Sloane still couldn’t believe it.

‘Why not?’ said Jacinta. ‘It’s not like my mother or father will ever take me. And if it’s good enough for Millie and Alice-Miranda, then I don’t see why not.’

Alice-Miranda and Millie grinned.

‘Well, count me out,’ said Sloane. ‘The only camping I want to do is under five stars. Like at the Ritz.’

The girls giggled.

Miss Grimm stepped forward and held her arm in the air, signalling for everyone to stop talking and give her their undivided attention. ‘Children, I hope you enjoyed the tour as much as I did. Now we will head into the cafe and have a quick bite to eat before we walk to the Hôtel Ritz for a rehearsal. You won’t have a run-through for your first performance at the Palace of Versailles at all, so we have to squeeze in these opportunities to practise wherever we can.’

The children were to give three performances on their tour. Their first would be at the Palace of Versailles, to open a show by the well-established Parisian designer Christian Fontaine. Their second was in Notre Dame Cathedral, as part of a mass to celebrate Fashion Week, and the final show was at the Ritz before a parade by the up-and-coming designer Dux LaBelle.

Morning tea was a swift affair, followed by a ten-minute walk from the Louvre to the Ritz, which was located in a very fancy square called the Place Vendôme.

On the way, the children passed another of the banks of bicycles that were located all over the city.

‘Hey, professor, why can’t we take these?’ Figgy asked.

Professor Winterbottom shook his head. ‘That’s the last thing I’d want to do. Can you imagine trying to control twenty children haring about the city on bikes?’

A little further down the road the boys spotted six tiny electric cars, all plugged in to tall recharging plinths. Apparently they worked on a similar principle to the bikes, with people able to rent them for short periods of time.

Figgy elbowed Rufus as the group waited at a set of traffic lights. ‘How cool are these?’ He fished about in his pocket.

‘What are you looking for?’ Rufus asked.

‘A card,’ Figgy replied.

‘But you don’t have a credit card.’ Rufus looked about to check whether any of the teachers had spotted them.

‘No, but I have this.’ Figgy produced the swipe card that was the key to his hotel room. ‘It’s worth a try.’

Rufus watched as Figgy ran the little white card through the machine.

‘Hey, I think it’s going to work,’ he declared as the display began to blink.

Neither of the boys saw the professor approach.

‘Give me that, Figworth.’ The man reached out and took the card from the boy’s hand. ‘Thankfully your hotel key will not allow you to rent a car.’

‘But sir, we were just kidding,’ Rufus protested.

‘I can’t take my eyes off you two for a minute, can I?’ the professor said, shaking his head.

‘Can I have my key back?’ Figgy grumbled.

‘I’ll think about it, if you promise not to try to buy anything else with it. Now hurry along.’

The group had reached the Place Vendôme and all its grandeur. The Ritz was located further along, towards the middle of the imposing buildings.

After some lengthy negotiations with the rather forbidding concierge at the desk, Miss Grimm was finally allowed to take the children inside. It seemed the man didn’t think much of children and this group clearly didn’t fit his ideal of Ritz patrons. The look he gave Harry Lipp was enough to confirm that. Miss Grimm used her best high school French, but Mr Plumpton surprised her by expertly explaining why they were there.

‘I didn’t know you spoke French, Mr Plumpton,’ Miss Reedy said as he returned to the end of the line, where the two had walked together from the Louvre.

‘Well, I’m not much good,’ he replied, blushing. ‘But it’s a lovely language.’

Mr Lipp barrelled into the conversation. ‘No, Mr Lipp, it’s the language of love. I should have gone and had it out with the chap. I did French honours at university. I’d have had him around in a second.’

‘Really, Mr Lipp? Then why didn’t you?’ Miss Reedy challenged.

Alice-Miranda and Millie exchanged knowing glances.

‘You could have helped, Alice-Miranda. You’re probably the only one who’s actually stayed here,’ Millie said.

‘Just once and the man I remember, who was so kind to Mummy and me, was Monsieur Michel and I didn’t see him at all. He worked out the front of the hotel when we were here.’

The children were ushered through the opulent foyer, which resembled a long drawing room, and into an exquisite salon where a group of men were constructing a runway. The sumptuous decorations looked as if they belonged in a palace, not a hotel.

Cornelius Trout had been consulting a very well-dressed woman from the hotel, who was strutting about with a clipboard and looking extremely official. Harry Lipp was busy ushering the children into their positions and working out how much space they would have available for some of their more robust numbers. The rehearsal was set to get underway when, through the open salon doors, Jacinta spotted someone who looked exactly like her mother.

Mr Trout had just started his long introduction on the piano when Jacinta’s arm shot into the air.

Harry Lipp tutted. ‘Not yet, not yet. Arms by your sides until the bar before we start. I’ll count you in. Mr Trout, we’ll have that from the top.’

‘But Mr Lipp.’ Jacinta waved her arm about again.

‘What now?’ he growled.

‘Mr Lipp, I think my mother’s out there.’ Jacinta pointed towards the door.

‘I don’t care if Queen Georgiana is out there, young lady, we are in the middle of a rehearsal and you need to focus. As we’ve talked about many times in the past weeks, no matter if the ceiling caves in or a photographer sticks his camera lens in your face or one of the models falls off her ridiculous high heels, your eyes will be on me the whole time. Am I clear?’ he frothed.

Jacinta pouted. She was desperate to know if it really was her mother in the foyer. And if so, what on earth was she doing here and why hadn’t she said anything about coming to Paris? Jacinta hoped she wasn’t up to her old tricks again – gallivanting all over the place, spending money that she didn’t have.

‘Focus, children, focus.’ Harry Lipp made a ‘V’ with his forefinger and middle finger and pointed first at the children and then at his own eyes. ‘Good, good,’ he yelled as the chorus reached a crescendo. His arms rose into the air and the piece ended with a dramatic flourish.