The rest of the week whizzed past and Clementine continued to enjoy her days at school. Poppy and Sophie and Clemmie spent lunchtimes playing games on the field. Even Angus seemed to be better behaved, although he and Joshua did spend a lot of time helping Miss Critchley with jobs. One lunchtime, Angus tried to convince Clemmie that Queen Georgiana hated pigs, but she decided it was best not to believe him.

Every night, Clemmie brought home a reader and would practise at the kitchen table with Uncle Digby or her mother. She had even convinced Aunt Violet to listen to her one evening.

‘Seriously, that must be the most boring tripe I’ve ever heard, Clementine. Can’t you bring home some proper stories?’ the old woman had complained before trotting off to the library. She’d returned with a dusty book called A Little Princess, by Frances Hodgson Burnett.

Clementine had asked if she was going to read it to her.

‘Heavens, no.’ Aunt Violet had shaken her head. ‘But this is what you should be aiming to read. A proper story.’

The book had sat on the kitchen sideboard for the rest of the week, just begging to be opened.

On Saturday afternoon, Lady Clarissa and Digby Pertwhistle were busy attending to three guests who had booked in for the weekend at the very last minute. Clementine and Lavender were in the kitchen having a snack when Aunt Violet appeared.

‘Hello Aunt Violet,’ Clementine smiled at her.

The old woman was dressed in a smart pair of navy pants and a white blouse.

Clementine studied her outfit. ‘You look nice.’

‘Yes, well.’ Aunt Violet considered Clementine’s own choice of a pretty pink dress with white polka dots. ‘Your dress is . . . sweet.’

‘Thank you, Aunt Violet,’ said Clementine.

Aunt Violet went to the sink, filled the kettle with water and popped it on the stove.

‘Grandpa’s glad that you’re here,’ said Clementine, looking up from her chocolate brownie.

Aunt Violet spun around. ‘Clementine, that’s nonsense. Your grandfather has been dead for years and I’m sure that he couldn’t care less whether I’m here or not.’

Clementine shook her head stubbornly. ‘That’s not true. I was talking to Granny and Grandpa this morning and they are both very happy that you’re home.’

Aunt Violet seemed puzzled. ‘Do you really think so?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Clemmie’s head jiggled up and down.

Aunt Violet finished making her tea, carried it over to the table and sat down.

Clementine slipped off the chair and returned to the table clutching the book Aunt Violet had left on the sideboard.

‘Could you read to me?’ She stood in front of the old woman, looking up at her piercing ink-blue eyes.

Aunt Violet shooed her away. ‘I’m busy, Clementine.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re having a cup of tea,’ Clementine insisted. ‘That’s not busy.’

‘Well, I don’t want to then,’ Aunt Violet snapped.

Clementine’s eyes began to cloud over.

‘Oh, for goodness sake, it’s nothing to cry about.’ Aunt Violet placed the teacup down on the saucer with a thud. ‘Give it to me.’ She snatched the book from Clementine’s hand. ‘And sit down there.’ She pointed at the seat next to her.

Clementine scurried up onto the chair. Pharaoh had made himself comfortable in the basket in front of the stove, where it was toasty and warm. Lavender hopped up from where she was sitting under the table and waddled over to join her friend.

Violet Appleby opened the book and scanned the inscription on the first page.

To our dearest Violet,

On the occasion of your sixth birthday,

Your loving Mama and Papa

xoxo

Something caught in Aunt Violet’s throat and she turned the page before Clementine could see what she was looking at. She began to read.

Clementine sat wide-eyed as her great-aunt turned the pages and the story came to life right in front of her. Neither of them realised that a whole hour had passed.

Lady Clarissa appeared in the kitchen carrying an empty tea tray.

‘Hello, what do we have here?’ she enquired.

Aunt Violet snapped the book shut.

‘Please don’t stop, Aunt Violet,’ Clementine begged.

‘I have things to do, Clementine. I can’t sit around here all day, can I?’ The old woman stood and strode out of the room.

Clementine was confused. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ she asked her mother.

‘No, Clemmie,’ Lady Clarissa said, shaking her head. ‘Aunt Violet can be a bit of a puzzle, that’s all.’

Clementine nodded. ‘She’s much harder to work out than the ones we do at school.’