‘This is not goodbye!’ declared the Queen. ‘It is simply au revoir croissant.’ She kissed Mrs Groves on the cheek, pulled her new Chihuahua from Num-Num’s mouth and drew Olive into a deep and loving embrace.
‘Isn’t “au revoir” just goodbye in French?’ asked Olive.
‘Yes, indeed,’ said the Queen. ‘But “au revoir croissant” means “I have to go now, but let’s meet for tea and cake before too long”.’
Olive smiled. ‘Absolutely!’
‘Your Majesty!’ squeaked Wordsworth. ‘I just wanted to say that your visit has been enjoyable, educational, entertaining, humbling –’
‘And haberdashery!’ cried Blimp. He smiled at Mr Pennyfetherill, who gave him the thumbs up.
The Queen climbed into the back seat of Bozo and Boffo’s fire engine, her carriage having been blown to bits. She settled her new Chihuahua into her lap. Bozo rang the bell and drew away from the kerb.
The coachman and two footmen followed behind, each riding a white stallion. Thistlebloom trotted along on the fourth stallion. As she went, she flicked the peppermints from her pinafore and swept a sparrow from her hair. She tugged the underpants from the front of her jumper, pulled herself upright and regained a little of the dignity she had shown upon her arrival at Groves. And for that, dear reader, we are ever so pleased. For Thistlebloom, although an unusually stern woman, was not a bad soul. She simply had certain inflexible standards. These would, in fact, prove an asset in her new role at the palace, where compromise was a dirty word and one was not welcome to deviate one jot from the exacting royal standards.
Behind them all, hobbling at great speed on his crutches, was the Inspector of Schools. ‘Poppet! Poppet!’ he sobbed. ‘Oh, please come back, my dear little Poppet.’
Mrs Groves and her students dribbled onto the footpath, where they watched in silence until the royal entourage disappeared, swallowed by the city traffic.
Olive bunny-hopped a full circle and wriggled her bottom in a manner most embarrassing. ‘We made it!’ she cheered. ‘The Queen’s visit has been a success, and Mrs Groves’ Boarding School for Naughty Boys, Talking Animals and Circus Performers lives on.’
‘Group hug!’ cried Tiny Tim.
Our heroine found herself at the centre of the biggest, warmest hug she had ever known. Three rats on her shoulders. A moose hanging off her neck. Eduardo’s lips pressed to her cheek. Feathers and fur. Scales and skin. Love all around.
Suddenly, she was lifted up onto the shoulders of her friends, where she was jiggled and tossed and cheered.
‘Hooray for Olive!’
‘Olive the winner!’
‘All hail the darling of Groves!’
Olive threw back her head and laughed. She wiped tears of joy and relief from her eyes, looked fondly up at Groves and gasped. Thousands of tiny gold particles from the Queen’s carriage had settled over the rambling old mansion. Now, in the final rays of the setting sun, her school, her home, glimmered golden.
‘Magical,’ she sighed. ‘I cannot imagine any other place I would rather be.’
‘Of course you can’t,’ said Wordsworth, ‘because home is where the heart is.’
‘And the cheese!’ squeaked Blimp. ‘Don’t forget the cheese!’