Clementine walked up the steps. A round man wearing a brown shirt and shorts, and long beige socks was sitting behind the steering wheel. He had curly brown hair too, and Clementine wondered if he was related to Mrs Bottomley.

‘Good morning, miss,’ the man said with a smile. ‘My name’s Bernie Stubbs.’

‘Good morning,’ Clementine smiled back.

‘I think we’re in for a good day,’ he said and gave her a wink.

Clementine decided then that he couldn’t be related to Mrs Bottomley. He was much too happy and friendly.

She walked into the aisle and wondered where to sit. Aunt Violet, who had entered the bus behind her, had already made up her mind.

‘Clementine, here,’ her great-aunt said as she slid into the front seat on the passenger side.

‘But Mrs Bottomley said that we have to keep the front seats free for people who get bus sick,’ Clementine protested.

‘I don’t care what Mrs Bottomley said. We’re sitting here.’ Aunt Violet pursed her lips and Clementine slipped in beside her. ‘I’m not going any further into this contraption than is absolutely necessary.’

The other children streamed onto the vehicle and raced towards the back. By the time Mrs Bottomley walked up the steps everyone had found a seat – although Joshua and Angus were playing a rowdy game and rushing up and down the aisle.

 

‘You boys stop that at once,’ Mrs Bottomley shouted, then blew her whistle. Joshua and Angus sat behind Mr Tribble, who had been trying unsuccessfully to get the two boys to settle down.

Mrs Bottomley gave him a stern look and then glanced at Aunt Violet. She was about to say something but Aunt Violet got in first.

‘Clementine mentioned that the front seats were reserved for people who weren’t good travellers,’ the old woman said. ‘And we wouldn’t want anyone in the back of the bus to suffer if someone’s feeling a bit peaky.’ Aunt Violet motioned at Clementine, and Mrs Bottomley kept her mouth closed. She could have sworn that there was nothing on the child’s medical form about travel sickness but she didn’t feel like having another argument with Miss Appleby.

The driver, who had hopped off the bus to make some last-minute checks, reappeared and lumbered back to his seat.

‘Good morning, Ethel. You’re looking lovely today,’ he said, grinning at Mrs Bottomley.

A crimson flush rose on Mrs Bottomley’s cheeks and she giggled like a schoolgirl. No one had told her that in years.

The bus driver turned the key in the ignition and the vehicle sputtered.

‘All aboard?’ he asked, glancing at Mrs Bottomley.

‘Wait a minute. I have to call the roll.’

‘Again?’ Aunt Violet said. ‘Surely you could just count everyone.’

Ethel Bottomley held onto her clipboard like a drowning sailor to a lifebuoy. She pulled out her pen.

‘Would you like this?’ Mr Stubbs offered her a small microphone.

Mrs Bottomley took it from him and pushed the button on the side of the handpiece. It crackled to life.

‘When everyone is in their seats I will do a final check of the roll before we head off.’

There was an audible groan from Aunt Violet, and Mrs Bottomley noticed that Mr Tribble rolled his eyes too.

She ignored them both and ran down the list, checking off the names.

‘All present and accounted for,’ said Mrs Bottomley, tapping her pen on the page.

The bus lurched forward and Mrs Bottomley wobbled on her feet.

‘Heavens, Mr Stubbs, you could have waited a moment.’ Mrs Bottomley clutched the pole beside the driver and swung into her seat behind him. ‘I almost ended up in your lap.’

‘That wouldn’t have been so bad now, Ethel, would it?’ he chuckled.

‘I think you should keep your eyes on the road, driver,’ Aunt Violet said loudly.

Ethel Bottomley’s face was redder than a beetroot. She ignored Miss Appleby’s comment and set to arranging her handbag beside her.

Clementine looked out of the window as the bus passed by the little row of shops where Sophie’s father had his patisserie. Her tummy fluttered. She turned to her great-aunt and declared, ‘Today is going to be fun!’

Her great-aunt nodded. ‘If you say so.’

Clementine reached out and put her hand into Aunt Violet’s. To her surprise, the old woman gave it a squeeze.

The bus bumped along to the other side of the village. The farm at Highton Hall wasn’t too far away but required the driver to navigate some narrow country lanes.

‘Perhaps we should have a song,’ Sophie’s mother suggested loudly. She started a rousing chorus of ‘The Wheels on the Bus’.

Mrs Bottomley leaned forward and gestured at the microphone. ‘Give me that, Mr Stubbs.’

He grinned in the rear-vision mirror. ‘Oh good, are we going to have some karaoke?’

‘Certainly not,’ said the teacher. ‘Children, please stop that singing at once. You’re distracting Mr Stubbs.’

‘Oh no, I love a good singalong,’ the driver protested.

‘You’re not being very helpful, Mr Stubbs,’ Mrs Bottomley whispered.

‘I just thought it would be nice to have a song,’ the man replied.

‘Goodness no,’ Ethel Bottomley said quietly, then looked over at Clementine. ‘Children, all this noise is, um, upsetting Clementine. We don’t want to make her sick, do we?’

‘But I don’t get bus–’ Clementine began to protest then felt a nudge from her great-aunt.

Aunt Violet gave Clemmie a freezing stare. The singing stopped. For a few minutes all that could be heard was the drone of the engine as Mr Stubbs wrestled the old beast down a gear and headed up the hill.

Soon the bus slowed and Mr Stubbs turned off the road and through a grand set of gates. They were now on the estate of Highton Hall.

The main house was quite a distance away, through another set of gates on the left. But the bus continued right, down a tree-lined drive dappled with sunlight. They passed several cottages and at the end of the road, the bus pulled up outside a hotchpotch of sheds.

‘Look, there’s Poppy!’ Clementine exclaimed as her friend came running towards them.

The atmosphere on the bus had risen to fever pitch with everyone jostling to see what was going on outside.

‘There’s a duck,’ one of the boys called.

‘I can see a cow over there,’ another child shouted.

‘Children, get back into your seats and sit down,’ Mrs Bottomley yelled. She snatched the microphone before Mr Stubbs had time to pass it to her.

She instructed the children to stay where they were and then hopped off the bus to find Mr Bauer, who would be taking the group on a tour of the farm. She was eager to go over the schedule with him one last time. Poppy said hello and Heinrich Bauer appeared from around the side of one of the sheds.

‘Good morning, Mrs Bottomley,’ he said in his thick German accent. ‘It is good to see you.’

‘Yes,’ said Mrs Bottomley. ‘I suppose I should thank you for inviting us.’

‘I see the children are excited.’ Mr Bauer nodded towards the bus, which had lots of little faces pressed up against the windows.

‘A little too excited for my liking,’ Mrs Bottomley replied. ‘You’ll need to take a firm hand with them, Mr Bauer. I certainly will. If anyone gets up to mischief they’ll be locked up in the dairy.’

‘Don’t worry, Mrs Bottomley. The children will be fine. I have lots of things for them to see and they will be too tired to get up to any mischief-making.’

Mrs Bottomley reached for her schedule but the man had already jumped onto the bus and begun to welcome the children loudly.

‘My name is Heinrich Bauer and you know my little girl, Poppy,’ he said. ‘Now we are going to have a lovely time on the farm today but you must make sure that you follow my instructions. Most of all, I want everyone to have some fun today.’

Aunt Violet was glad to hear it. At least Mr Bauer seemed excited to have the children visiting.