Clementine Rose and the Movie Magic 9 by Jacqueline Harvey

Clementine Rose stood on the middle of the front stairs, practising her lines. ‘How did that sound, Grandpa?’ She looked up at the portrait of her grandfather, which hung on the wall beside the painting of her grandmother. ‘Basil said that we can start again if I make a mistake.’
    â€˜Godfathers, I don’t know why you bother,’ Clementine’s Great-Aunt Violet said, striding down from the top floor. ‘He’s not said a word in years, at least not to me.’
    Clementine giggled. ‘I still like talking to him, anyway – and to Granny. She’s got the loveliest smile.’
    Aunt Violet paused for a moment to stare at the faces of her brother and sister-in-law. A strange pain clawed at her chest and she winced.

    â€˜Are you all right?’ Clementine looked up at the woman’s watery blue eyes.
    Violet Appleby brushed at the side of her face. ‘Yes, yes. I’m fine. I just haven’t thought about Edmund and Davina much recently. You’re right, though – your grandmother did have a lovely smile.’
    The woman turned to Clementine and promptly changed the subject.
    â€˜Are you ready?’ she asked.
    Clementine nodded. ‘I think so, except for the butterflies having a boxing match in my tummy.’
    â€˜Well, you tell them to calm right down,’ Aunt Violet instructed. ‘Take a few deep breaths and you’ll be fine.’
    The child had been looking forward to this moment for weeks. Ever since she landed a starring role in their neighbour Basil Hobbs’s documentary about Penberthy House, Clementine had counted down the days until the end of the school term, when filming was scheduled to begin. While her mother and Uncle Digby had both helped Clemmie to learn her lines, it was Aunt Violet who had made sure that she was word perfect.
    Clementine was very good at remembering things off by heart. It had started when she was much younger, when Uncle Digby would teach her poems which she would then recite for Granny and Grandpa. But this was different. This time there was a camera to capture her every move.
    Clementine peered over the banister into the entrance foyer below. Basil was talking to her mother while fiddling with a huge movie camera on a tripod. He wore a bright-yellow waistcoat and a matching bow tie with red spots on it. Clementine thought Basil lookedeven more stylish than usual, particularly with the addition of a navy beret, which he’d told her was his lucky director’s hat.
    Close by, a tall man wearing a large set of headphones fiddled with a long stick that had a furry microphone attached to its end. A small boy with dark-brown hair stood beside him, watching his every move.
    Basil looked up at Clementine and waggled his eyebrows excitedly. ‘We’re almost ready. Would you like to join us downstairs, Aunt Violet? You can watch from here.’
    Clementine was wearing a pretty navy-blue dress and her favourite red patent Mary Jane shoes. Mrs Mogg, the owner of the village shop, had made the dress especially for the occasion.
    Aunt Violet gave the child a quick once-over and adjusted the red ribbon in her hair. ‘Perfect,’ she said with a wink.
    Clementine lunged forward and hugged the old woman around her middle. ‘Thank you for helping me. I really ’preciate it,’ the child said.
    â€˜The word is a- ppreciate, Clementine,’ Violet Appleby tutted, making her way down the stairs. ‘One of these days I’ll teach you to speak the Queen’s English.’
    Clementine looked at Basil, awaiting his instruction.
    â€˜In a minute I’ll snap the board and call “action”,’ he explained. ‘You can start anytime you like.’
    â€˜Okay,’ the child replied. ‘But are you sure I can do it again if I make a mistake?’
    â€˜Of course,’ Basil said with a nod. ‘And remember to enjoy yourself. I always do!’
    Clementine