Alice-Miranda Shows the Way (12 page)

A
lice-Miranda had arrived back at the house to find Mrs Howard and Millie in the downstairs kitchenette making tea.

‘I couldn't find her,' the younger girl explained. ‘I'd hate for her to think that she was going to be accused of something.'

Mrs Howard frowned. ‘My dear, I didn't accuse the girl of anything. I simply asked her what was in her hand.'

But Alice-Miranda knew that question alone
would have been enough to make Fern run.

‘Have you checked our room?' Millie asked. ‘Maybe she had stolen something and the cat ornament was just a decoy.'

‘I'm sure she wouldn't have taken anything,' Alice-Miranda replied. ‘She was so nervous about coming up in the first place.'

‘You don't really know anything about her, Alice-Miranda.' Millie sipped the milky tea that Mrs Howard had just placed in front of her. ‘Except that she has a really weird brother and she lives with the carnival people.'

Alice-Miranda frowned. ‘Can you imagine what it would be like to be accused of doing the wrong thing all the time? That must be terrible.'

Mrs Howard placed a second cup on the small dining table and sat down. ‘If the child comes back, Alice-Miranda, then of course I'll look at her wrist,' Howie offered. ‘But if not, I think you should leave things alone this time. The carnival folk keep to themselves and I'm afraid I have enough to worry about this week with the show coming up and Myrtle Parker bossing me about, without having to keep an extra-close eye on you and your adventures.'

‘But I just want to let her know she's not in trouble,' Alice-Miranda began.

Howie was firm. ‘I'm sorry, Alice-Miranda, but I want you to stay away from Gertrude's Grove and concentrate on getting Bonaparte ready for the show. You can't save everyone, my dear.' Howie looked up and locked eyes with Alice-Miranda. ‘Now, why don't you run along and get ready for dinner and Millie and I will finish our tea. Although I can't imagine what poor Mrs Smith will be able to cobble together now.'

‘Why do you say that?' Millie asked.

‘Well, our committee meeting at Myrtle Parker's ran for over seven hours. Seven hours!' Howie's face was getting redder and redder by the second. ‘Can you imagine what could take that long? Myrtle assigned jobs to everyone. I'm sure that if poor Reginald had even blinked he'd have been given something to do as well . . .'

Millie wished she hadn't asked.
Wait for me
, she mouthed to her friend.

Alice-Miranda nodded, then excused herself to go and get changed. Millie began to push her chair back.

‘You're not going to leave yet, Millicent, you haven't finished your tea,' Howie blustered on. ‘And then . . .'

Millie glanced at the clock on the wall. Howie was wound up like a spring and she was going to tell the whole story whether Millie wanted to hear it or not. The child was well and truly stuck.

As Fern neared the crest of the hill above the camp site, she could hear laughter and shouting. Her mind was reeling. She was trying to remember exactly what happened that afternoon almost a year ago. Alf had argued with her older brother and then in the morning he was gone and Alf said that he'd run away because he'd been up to no good. The rest of the camp had blamed him for the missing carnival takings too.

In the fading afternoon light a swarm of children chased after the football on the open field. Someone had built a giant fire, ringed by rocks, closer to the caravans.

Fern scanned the scene, looking for her younger brother. He wouldn't be near the fire – he was scared of the flames. She assumed he was probably off somewhere playing with his badges. Fern spotted Alf with a bottle in his hand, laughing and carrying
on with Doug Kessler beside him on a surprisingly smart-looking garden bench. No doubt Mrs Kessler would be in their caravan getting dinner ready for the six mouths she had to feed. Doug Kessler was a nice enough bloke but not one for domestic duties. A lot like Alf, Fern thought to herself. She couldn't remember him ever offering to get a meal or wash any clothes. Her mother used to take care of all that and now it was up to Fern.

Fern was hoping to get home without being noticed, but Alf had ears like radar and she knew it wouldn't be easy.

As she crept towards the caravan door, she thought she'd got away with it.

‘Fern, Fernie, be a love and get me and Dougie another drink,' the old man yelled.

Fern's shoulders slumped.

‘And where's that good-for-nothing brother of yours?' Alf called after her as she entered the caravan. She marched across to the fridge, wondering herself where Tarquin could be. Fern collected two bottles of beer and walked back outside.

‘You're a good girl, Fernie, aren't you, love?' said Alf with a toothy smile as he took the bottles and handed one to Doug. For a moment she saw
a glimpse of the man her mother had fallen in love with. But it only lasted a moment.

‘Have you seen Tarquin?' she asked.

‘No, that's why I asked you where the moron was.' Alf twisted the cap off the beer bottle and took a swig. ‘I thought he must have been with you.'

‘No,' Fern winced. She clenched her fists into a ball. She hated when Alf called her brother names but there was no point saying anything. Alf would just do it more often.

Fern ran over to where the kids were finishing up their game.

‘Has anyone seen Tarq?' she called.

A couple of older boys shook their heads and a cacophony of ‘no's came back to her.

‘I saw him,' Ivy said.

‘Where?' Fern asked. ‘How long ago?'

‘What are you gonna give me?' Ivy challenged the older girl.

‘Nothing, you little brat. Just tell me where you saw him.' Fern could feel her temperature rising. Ivy had that effect on her. In fact, she seemed to have that effect on most of the other children in the camp too.

Ivy's family, like Fern's, were from a long line
of travelling show people. The Joyces's carousel was renowned as one of the most beautiful in the country and had been in their family for over one hundred years. Ivy's father, Jim Joyce, always said that if it wasn't for him and his carousel no one would bother coming to the show. But everyone knew that wasn't true. The other rides might not have looked as lovely but they were a lot more popular with the younger patrons. Jim often got into spats with Alf about how things should be run and where the rides should be placed on the showgrounds. Six-year-old Ivy had inherited her father's bluster. No one wanted to play with her, but no one wanted to be on the receiving end of her parents' nastiness either. And so they all put up with her – most of the time.

But today Fern wasn't in the mood for an argument. ‘Look, Ivy, just tell me where you saw him. I'll give you a chocolate.'

Fern was trying to remember if she had any lollies or chocolates stashed anywhere. It must have been the worst kept secret in the camp that if you wanted Ivy to do anything for you, you gave her something sweet.

‘What sort?' Ivy asked, although Fern knew she wasn't fussy. Ivy's mother and father had her on a
strict diet but little did they know that she was always scrounging junk from everyone else.

Fern remembered that she'd hidden some chocolate buttons in the cupboard beside her bed. She jogged over to the caravan and retrieved the little white bag.

‘Here.' Fern handed the bag to Ivy. ‘So where did you see him?'

‘He walked over the top of the hill.' Ivy thrust her hand inside the bag and stuffed the chocolate treats one after the other into her mouth.

‘You're lying.' Fern reached out and snatched the bag from Ivy's hand.

‘Am not!' Ivy reached up and tried to grab the bag back again, but Fern held it high. ‘He asked if he could play football and Pete told him to get lost.'

Fern gasped.

‘Then he just disappeared.'

‘How long ago?' Fern demanded.

Ivy screwed up her face. ‘I don't know.'

Fern stamped her foot in frustration. ‘Come on, Ivy, think. I'm sure you're not as stupid as you look.'

‘I'm not stupid. You are!' Ivy retaliated.

‘Ivy, I didn't mean it. Please just tell me when you saw him.' Fern was desperate.

‘I went inside to have lunch and it was late
because Mum cooked a roast, then me and Mum were watching
Winners Are Grinners
and then Mum told me to go outside and play so it was just after that,' said Ivy.

‘So it was a couple of hours ago?' Fern asked.

‘I suppose so.' Ivy shrugged. ‘He went that way,' she said, pointing to the top of the hill.

Fern's stomach twisted. The kids knew they couldn't say that to Tarquin.
Get lost.
He'd do it. She would have to tell Alf. It was getting dark and Tarquin could be anywhere.

H
ephzibah was pottering in the front garden, adding some bulbs to one of the freshly planted beds, when she looked up and spotted a dark-haired lad over by the fountain. He was sitting on the grass looking at something on the ground. She hauled herself to her feet and went to speak to him.

The old woman wasn't alone; several of her feline friends were lazing nearby. She'd lost count long ago of how many cats lived at Caledonia Manor, although with the teaching college about to open, she thought
it might be time to find new homes for most of her furry companions.

Hephzibah was wearing light khaki trousers, a long-sleeved white shirt and a wide-brimmed hat to protect her face. Since meeting Alice-Miranda earlier in the year she no longer dressed from head to toe in black and had abandoned the veil that once covered her face.

‘Hello there,' the old woman called as she walked across the lawn towards the boy. ‘Can I help you?'

As she approached him, Hephzibah could see a cat rubbing against the lad's back. He didn't seem to have noticed it, so mesmerised was he by whatever was in front of him. Perhaps it was a tortoise, Hephzibah thought hopefully. It would be lovely to have some more wildlife in the garden.

The boy didn't seem to hear her and Hephzibah wondered if he might be deaf.

‘Excuse me, are you all right?' she asked, as she drew closer.

The boy moved his head sideways and looked at her. He had the most extraordinary amber-coloured eyes. Just like a cat, she thought to herself.

Hephzibah could now see that he was looking at a collection of badges, neatly lined up in rows.

She tried again to get his attention. ‘My name is Hephzibah and this is my home.' She wondered if this was the boy Alice-Miranda and Millie had told her about yesterday. ‘Are you Tarquin?'

The boy looked up again. He didn't smile but there was a lightness about his eyes.

He nodded but then his face fell.

‘What's the matter?' Hephzibah asked.

Tarquin stood up, then slowly pointed at her face. He reached up. Hephzibah stood perfectly still as the boy touched her scarred cheek.

‘What's that?' he asked seriously.

‘A scar.' Hephzibah smiled at him. ‘It doesn't hurt.'

He looked back at her. Hephzibah wondered if something had happened to Tarquin, whether he had been born this way or, perhaps like her, there had been an accident. But her scars were only superficial; whatever was different about Tarquin affected him much more deeply.

‘Do you like cats?' Hephzibah asked, watching as the tabby smooched up against the boy's leg.

He nodded and reached down to give the creature a rub on the top of its head. Then he launched into a monologue about cats, their history and what they
eat and just about anything else you might care to know about the animals.

‘My goodness,' Hephzibah interrupted him. ‘You're very well informed about cats. Do you know about lots of creatures?'

Tarquin nodded.

‘You must have walked a long way,' Hephzibah said, remembering that Millie and Alice-Miranda said that the camp was over at Gertrude's Grove.

The boy shrugged. ‘I'm lost. Pete told me to get lost and so I am.'

Oh dear, Hephzibah thought. It would be best to take him up to the house and see if Mr Weatherly could come over from the school and drive him back to the Grove. It was a long way on foot and she certainly couldn't manage it herself.

‘Would you like something to eat?' Hephzibah asked the boy. ‘I have some cake.'

At the mention of the word, the boy's eyes lit up and he nodded.

‘I like cake,' he said.

‘Well then, dear, come with me.'

Hephzibah watched as he packed his badges away. One by one, he polished each of them with a handkerchief, then placed them into the plastic
bag. She waited for him to finish, then led the way back to the house with the young lad and several cats following.

As always, more cats were asleep in various sunny spots along the path and the veranda. Tarquin stopped and patted each and every one of them.

‘I hope you like chocolate cake,' said Hephzibah as they reached the kitchen door. He crossed the threshold and she motioned for him to sit at the kitchen table, which he studied intently.

Henrietta had gone to her room for a rest, so it was just the old woman and the young boy. Hephzibah lifted the large glass dome from the cake stand and cut a generous slice, which she slid onto a plate and placed in front of the lad.

‘What do you think?' she said, hoping that he would look up.

Tarquin's eyes flickered but without so much as a glance her way he shovelled the chocolate confection into his mouth, hoovering up all the crumbs.

Hephzibah smiled at the performance. ‘Goodness, you must be hungry.'

He didn't reply. Tarquin's tongue probed the edges of his mouth to make sure that he'd got every last morsel.

‘Would you like some more?' she asked.

He nodded, and then, as if remembering that he'd forgotten something important, he said, ‘Please.'

Hephzibah delivered another piece of cake and watched him consume it at a similar speed to the first. She then gave him a tall glass of milk. Surely that and the two slices of cake would see him full.

Tarquin gulped the chilled white liquid and finished with a loud ‘ahhh'.

‘Now, my dear boy, I'm going to call a friend and see if he can drive you back to your camp site,' Hephzibah explained. ‘I don't think you should try to walk back. It will be dark soon and I'd hate for you to get lost in the woods overnight.'

The old woman walked over to the telephone and pressed 6. Alice-Miranda and Millie had set up speed dial for everyone at the school and all of the other numbers she might need.

‘Hello Mr Weatherly, it's Hephzibah Fayle,' she spoke into the receiver. ‘I have a favour to ask.'