said. ‘And what do you think of my lions?’
Aksara looked up at him with wide eyes. ‘Big.’
The girls giggled.
‘Yes, they are, aren’t they? I’ve heard that the groom loves them,’ said Mr Smote.
Arya nodded. ‘Our daddy’s his brother and he does too.’
‘Well, you’d better be running along. I have to get home to paint a castle,’ said Mr Smote.
‘A castle?’ Clementine gasped. Penberthy House was big enough. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live in a castle.
‘How do you paint a castle?’ Arya asked.
Mr Smote looked at the children’s stunned faces. ‘Oh no, I’m not painting a real castle. My godson is having a birthday party next week and I offered to create a miniature castle for the party.’
Clementine couldn’t believe her ears. She wondered if Mr Smote was Angus’s godfather. If he was in charge of the party then it would be incredible for sure. She wished even harder now that she could go.
‘All right, I’m about to lock up for the night,’ Mr Smote said as he walked towards the entrance.
Clementine was curious about how he could do that. Tents didn’t have proper doors, after all.
‘You don’t need to lock up,’ Arya said.
‘Why not?’ Mr Smote asked
‘Because there are lions on guard,’ she said with a smile.
Mr Smote laughed. ‘Yes, you’re right about that.’
‘And a pig too,’ Clementine added. Lavender was sitting right in the middle of the two stone beasts.
‘She’s a guard pig,’ Alisha giggled. Lavender grunted as if to agree.
The children headed back inside just before dark. Clementine had decided the best thing she could do was forget all about Angus and his party and concentrate on the wedding and playing with her three new friends.
Mrs Gunalingam met them at the back door and guided her children straight upstairs to their baths.
Inside, Margaret Mogg was stirring the gravy on the stove. Clementine stood on tiptoe to watch. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Mrs Mogg.’
‘We couldn’t let the guests starve, could we?’ said Mrs Mogg. She left the wooden spoon in the saucepan and opened the oven to check on the lamb.
Clementine’s nostrils twitched. ‘It smells delicious. Is Mummy home yet?’
‘She telephoned a little while ago. Aunt Violet is driving over to pick her and the doctor up,’ Mrs Mogg explained.
‘That’s a relief,’ said Clementine.
The sound of the front door opening distracted the pair and Clementine ran off into the hallway.
‘Mummy!’ Clementine launched herself at her mother’s waist. From out of nowhere, tears sprang from her eyes and she began to cry in big shuddery sobs.
‘Oh Clemmie, sweetheart, what is it?’ Her mother knelt down and Clementine clung to her like a periwinkle in a rock pool.
‘I – don’t – know,’ she gulped.
‘Clemmie, Uncle Digby will be fine. Please don’t worry. He wouldn’t want to see you like this.’
Lady Clarissa brushed a rogue strand of hair from Clementine’s wet face. ‘I know it’s been a difficult day, what with all the excitement of the wedding and then the worry about Uncle Digby. But I’m sure that tomorrow will be much brighter.’
Clementine didn’t tell her that she’d been upset about seeing Joshua and hearing Mr Smote talk about a party too, or that she was mad about having to give up her room, or that Aunt Violet had been even crosser than usual. She didn’t want to sound like a crybaby.
‘Come along, Clemmie. Let’s go and wash your face and then we can get ready for dinner. Mrs Mogg has been busy – something smells delicious.’
Lady Clarissa stood up. Clementine grabbed her hand and the two of them walked to the downstairs bathroom where Clementine splashed some water on her face and dried her eyes.
‘Where’s Aunt Violet?’ Clementine asked between sniffs.
‘She went straight upstairs to move her things into Uncle Digby’s room for the night. I had to tell her in the car that I’d given her room away too
Learning to Kill: Stories