Or was she? Juliette said that she thought Alice-Miranda was lovely and kind – and her parents too.

  Ellie stood up and glanced out the window, then realised that there were lights heading along the driveway. She had to get downstairs and out to the van before whoever was coming arrived.

  She turned to leave and spotted the thing she’d been sent to get in the first place. The donations box. It was sitting right there on the bookshelf. Ellie scooped it up and raced back out the door and down the stairs. She hurtled along the hallway to the kitchen, but the sound of tyres crunching on the gravel pulled her up.

  The van was out of sight of the driveway and there was no sign of her friends.

  Ellie ran back into the main part of the house. She’d seen the huge double front doors in the entry foyer past the staircase.

  She charged down the long hallway and found what she was looking for, then turned the handle. She pulled the heavy door open, then closed it as quietly as she could before stuffing the donations box under her coat and running along the veranda towards the side of the mansion. Surely the others hadn’t gone without her.

  Ellie turned the corner and realised that the driver of the sports car was still sitting inside of it. And he had just looked straight at her.

  The door opened and he hopped out.

  ‘Hello. May I help you?’ the man asked. His clothes looked expensive – a beautiful woollen jumper in a sage green with taupe-coloured pants and the coolest trainers Ellie had ever seen. She had a feeling that this was her mother’s boss.

  Over near the sheds she couldn’t see if the van was still there, but she assumed so. She had to distract this guy so the others could make their getaway.

  ‘H-h-hi,’ Ellie stammered. ‘I was looking for Alice-Miranda.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry you’ve missed her. Everyone’s gone to the village for the light ceremony. I’m on my way there myself in a few minutes – been held up at work,’ the man replied. ‘I’m her father, Hugh Kennington-Jones, and you’re . . .’

  The girl gulped. ‘Ellie,’ she said quietly.

  ‘How do you know Alice-Miranda?’ Hugh asked.

  There was no point lying.

  ‘We met at the supermarket. My mother works there,’ Ellie said.

  ‘Oh – you’re Juliette’s Ellie,’ the man said. ‘Delighted to finally meet you. Your mother is terribly proud of you and your brother. She’s very clever too – management material.’

  Ellie gulped. Why was he being so nice to her? He wouldn’t once he realised why she was there.

  ‘Are you heading to the village?’ Hugh asked. ‘Would you like a lift? I just have to collect something from inside.’

  Ellie nodded. ‘Thanks – that’d be great.’ She had one eye on the gap between the sheds.

  ‘Would you like to come in?’ Hugh asked. ‘It’s chilly out.’

  ‘I’m fine. I’ll wait here if that’s okay,’ she said.

  Hugh gave a nod and hurried away inside. Ellie was clutching the donations box under her coat. As soon as he was gone, she raced across the driveway to see if the van was still there. It was.

  She ran to the driver’s door. Kane was inside with the others.

  ‘What are you playing at?’ he hissed.

  Ellie took the donations box out and thrust it through the window.

  ‘I’m going with Mr Kennington-Jones to the light ceremony,’ she said. ‘He thinks I came to see Alice-Miranda and he’s offered me a lift. I have to get there to meet Mum and Myles anyway. Stay here until we leave.’

  Hazel was jammed in the back of the van with all of the stolen goods and didn’t like any of what she’d just heard.

  Her head popped through the gap in the seats. ‘What? So now you’re best friends with that toff. You’re supposed to be with us.’

  ‘I am – but if I do a runner now, he’ll tell my mother, and I don’t want her knowing we were here,’ Ellie said.

  Hazel pouted. ‘So you’re going to get a ride in that gorgeous sports car and I have to hang out with these losers. That’s not fair.’

  ‘I’ll meet you in the village, Hazel,’ Ellie said, ignoring her friend’s disapproval. She turned and scampered back across the driveway and up the steps to the veranda.

  Hugh Kennington-Jones headed out the back door at almost the exact same time.

  ‘Well then, we’ll be off,’ he said. ‘Hop in.’

  Ellie had never been in a car anything like the one that was parked in the driveway. She wasn’t sure what make it was, but it looked like it cost more than her mother would have made in fifty years.

  Hugh opened the door for her and she climbed in. It smelt amazing too – like new leather. She was worried about getting dirt on the carpet.

  When Hugh turned the ignition, Ellie jumped. The growl was like something you would have heard on a wildlife documentary.

  ‘Sorry – I should have warned you that it’s a bit loud,’ the man said. ‘One of my follies – sports cars.’

  ‘It’s lovely,’ Ellie said quietly.

  Hugh was about to take off when his phone rang. ‘Excuse me, Ellie, but I have to take this. Hello, Detective Inspector Freeman.’

  Ellie swallowed hard. It was the police. Hugh must have watched some surveillance footage of her inside the house and the others taking the Christmas decorations and called them. Ellie was half expecting a convoy of patrol cars to come screaming down the driveway at any minute, ready to take her and the others into custody. But that’s not what happened at all.

  ‘Evening, Hugh. Just wanted to update you on the investigations,’ the woman said. ‘Is now a good time?’

  ‘Hang on a tick – I’ll take you off speaker,’ Hugh said.

  There was a pause as Hugh listened to the detective on the other end of the line.

  ‘Interesting,’ Hugh said. ‘Have you got any idea how they’re intercepting the stock?’

  There was another long break. Hugh ummed and ahhed and said that it sounded like they were on the verge of a breakthrough.

  ‘So you think that the people taking the goods are quite a way down the food chain,’ Hugh said.

  Ellie wondered what he was talking about. It must have had something to do with the shops. The other day when they met Alice-Miranda, she’d asked her mother if anything had been wrong – if things were missing from Kennington’s. It must be a big problem.

  ‘We’ve not long ago taken up a new transport contract with Freightliners. They’ve been brilliant, so far – at least that’s what the reports have said. Now I have to wonder,’ Hugh said. ‘Sounds as if it’s the most likely scenario as to how things are going missing.’

  Ellie knew that name. It was on the invoices she’d seen at Hazel’s house in her father’s study.

  ‘Keep me posted and tell your man to be careful. I want these people prosecuted,’ Hugh said, then hung up.

  ‘Sorry about that, Ellie. Just some trouble at work,’ the man said.

  ‘It sounds bad,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, much worse than I originally thought. It’s not only us who have been affected. Someone is very cleverly skimming goods from a whole lot of supermarket chains. Not enough that we’ve noticed until recently – it was Alice-Miranda who mentioned something about the Kennington’s close to her school having no Christmas supplies. Then we did a little more digging and it seems that, while Christmas appears to be the thieves’ favourite time of the year, small amounts have been going missing for months and the same for our competitors. We think the inventory that is being reported in the trucks is not what’s actually going out – I’m confident the police are close to discovering who’s behind it all.’

  Ellie nodded and glanced back towards the end of the shed where the van was still parked – loaded up with the family’s Christmas decorations. Ellie hated what she’d just done. It felt wrong on every level. She’d tell Hazel that she was busy the next time they wanted her help. She wasn’t a thief – and even if some people had a lot more than others, this was no way to level the playing field. Besides, she had a terrible feeling that Hazel’s father might have been involved in something much worse than what his children were up to.

  Alice-Miranda munched on a couple of fries that she’d earlier declared to be the best she’d ever had. She and her friends had done the rounds of the food stalls as soon as they’d arrived in the village.

  ‘Thith ith delithus,’ Sloane muttered, as she shovelled another huge bite of burger into her mouth. Chessie pointed to the blob of sauce that was now decorating the side of the girl’s face, while trying not to lose the contents of her own dinner.

  ‘Oops,’ Sloane said and wiped at it with her napkin, only serving to smear the offending condiment even further across her cheek.

  Lucas had just presented Jacinta with a cloud of pink candy floss on a stick that was twice the size of the girl’s head – they’d already devoured tacos and were now onto dessert – while Sep and Neville were wolfing down plates of chocolate crepes. Millie and Britt had opted for cod and chips. Britt said that fish was one of the foods she was missing from home. Caprice was eating a margherita pizza – to remind herself that she’d soon be in Italy with her family.

  Festivities were in full swing, with food trucks and a Christmas market in the square.

  ‘Is Daddy coming soon?’ Alice-Miranda asked her mother, who was sipping a hot chocolate. Dolly Oliver and Mrs Shillingsworth were both enjoying mugs of mulled wine – the scent of the cinnamon and cloves unmistakable.

  ‘He called and said that he’s on his way. He’s bringing Ellie, the girl you met the other day at the supermarket. Juliette’s daughter,’ the woman replied.

  Alice-Miranda frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘Apparently, Ellie was on the veranda when your father arrived home. He said that she was looking for you,’ Cecelia said.

  ‘Oh, really?’ Alice-Miranda’s eyebrows jumped up. She wondered if the visit had anything to do with the donations box. It would be good to be able to talk to her again and get to the bottom of things.

  Most of the group had wandered away to check out the market stalls when Alice-Miranda spied Elliot Turner in the distance. He was talking to a young boy – probably only six or seven years old.

  ‘Who’s that with Mr Turner, Mummy?’ Alice-Miranda asked. It looked as if the child was showing him something – there was a shiny glint coming from the boy’s hand.

  ‘Oh, I think that’s young Myles – he’s Juliette’s son. I’ve met them a couple of times in the village when she’s been walking him to and from school. He’s a dear little boy – completely obsessed with Christmas baubles, or “bubbles” as he calls them, according to his mother.’

  Alice-Miranda watched as Mr Turner smiled at the lad and then Myles turned and ran off, leaving the man on his own. Alice-Miranda wondered if she might have a word with Mr Turner – he could tell her if Miss Wickham was about.

  ‘Do you fancy getting some more of those lovely linen tea towels?’ Dolly Oliver said to Cecelia Highton-Smith. ‘I’ve just seen Matilda Salisbury is there with her stall again. Shilly, is there anything you’re after too?’

  The three women were busy conferring.

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute, Mummy,’ Alice-Miranda said and dashed away to see Mr Turner, who was now chatting to Violet Appleby. The woman had a huge smile on her face and was standing beside her husband, Digby Pertwhistle, who was in charge of a young girl in a pushchair. The woman’s granddaughter, Clementine Rose, was playing tag nearby with Poppy Bauer. The two girls were at school together and were the best of friends. Clementine often had sleepovers with Poppy at the farmhouse at Highton Hall.

  Alice-Miranda appeared in front of the group. ‘Hello, Miss Appleby,’ she said. ‘I’m glad to see you came along after all.’

  ‘Godfathers, it’s ghastly, isn’t it?’ the woman replied, rolling her eyes, but Digby Pertwhistle smiled and gave his wife a nudge.

  ‘Good heavens, Violet – you’ve been looking forward to tonight more than anyone,’ he teased, garnering himself another eye roll from the woman.

  ‘Hello, Mr Pertwhistle,’ Alice-Miranda said.

  ‘Look at you, my dear,’ he said. ‘You must have grown an inch since you were last home.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve grown as much as Clara,’ the child replied. The toddler smiled for a second, then went back to sucking on her iced lolly.

  ‘Hello, Mr Turner,’ Alice-Miranda said and looked at the man. ‘Thank you for the invitation to your party. My friends and I are all terribly excited.’

  ‘It’s my pleasure,’ he said. ‘You reminded me that Christmas really is all about children. Sebastian has planned some lovely surprises.’

  ‘Is Miss Wickham here?’ the child asked. ‘I was hoping to speak to her.’

  Elliot Turner shook his head. ‘No, I don’t believe so. She’s had a lot on her plate lately.’

  Violet Appleby tsked loudly. ‘Not the least being the death of her sister – and trying to find her missing niece.’

  Alice-Miranda frowned. ‘Her niece is missing?’

  ‘The girl ran away fifteen years ago and hasn’t been heard from since,’ Violet said. ‘Poor Delia was telling me about it when she dropped that box of things into the charity shop last Tuesday. Her sister died never knowing what happened to the girl.’

  ‘Do you know her name?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t,’ Violet Appleby replied.

  Elliot Turner cleared his throat.

  Alice-Miranda sensed that the conversation was uncomfortable for the man. Miss Appleby probably shouldn’t have been sharing Miss Wickham’s secrets with her – Alice-Miranda didn’t really know the woman at all. She decided not to say anything about the mysterious bottle inside the teapot. But tomorrow night at the party she’d see Miss Wickham and show her what they’d found.

  ‘Hello, darling!’ Hugh Kennington-Jones called to his daughter, interrupting the conversation.

  The girl spun around. ‘Oh, hello, Daddy.’ Her father was walking towards her with Ellie beside him. She was dressed in the same coat Alice-Miranda had seen her in the other day and she looked just as cold as she had then too.

  Hugh gave Alice-Miranda a quick hug and shook Elliot’s hand before Violet Appleby began talking to Hugh at a rate of knots about cranberry sauce and why it wasn’t available at Kennington’s – not in Highton Mill or anywhere else she’d been. Ellie hung back almost as if she was hiding.

  ‘Daddy said that you were at home looking for me,’ Alice-Miranda said to the girl.

  ‘Um, yes,’ Ellie replied. ‘I . . .’ she began, but Alice-Miranda was distracted.

  She’d noticed that Elliot Turner was staring at the girls, the colour having completely drained from his face.

  ‘Are you all right, Mr Turner?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he said, but it was clear now that it was Ellie he was interested in. He couldn’t take his eyes off the girl.

  ‘This is Ellie. She’s just moved here a little while ago with her mother Juliette and her brother Myles. Juliette works at Kennington’s here in the village,’ the child explained.

  Ellie’s face was ashen too. Alice-Miranda wondered if they were suddenly both unwell. Hopefully there wasn’t a bug going around.

  ‘Juliette, you say. How odd. I’m sorry to stare – it’s just that Ellie reminds me so much of someone,’ the man replied. ‘It’s uncanny.’

  Alice-Miranda was intrigued. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘My wife,’ Elliot muttered then excused himself and quickly hurried away.

  Alice-Miranda turned to speak to Ellie but surprisingly she’d disappeared too.

  ‘Well, that was strange,’ Alice-Miranda said to herself.

  Her father looked at her – the Appleby-Pertwhistles had moved off as well.

  ‘What’s strange, darling?’ the man asked.

  ‘Ellie just vanished and before that Mr Turner looked as if he’d seen a ghost,’ the girl said, then explained what the man had said about Ellie reminding him of his wife.

  ‘The poor chap,’ Hugh said. ‘I’m not sure that we’ve ever told you this before, but Elliot Turner’s wife died about fifteen years ago – before you were born. It was a terrible tragedy. She fell from the top of the stairs at Hoxton Manor, but there were rumours that perhaps there had been another party involved.’

  ‘She was murdered?’ Alice-Miranda gasped.

  ‘Possibly – though no one was ever charged. Elliot wasn’t there so he was never a suspect. It was a terrible thing. On the very same day, one of our local doctors was killed in a car accident not far from Hoxton Manor. He had a connection to the Turners too, as his wife was Miss Wickham’s sister.’

  ‘That’s awful,’ the child said. ‘Poor Mr Turner and Miss Wickham, and now her sister’s died and her niece is missing. Some families have an awful lot of tragedy, don’t they?’

  ‘It didn’t end there for the Turners,’ Hugh said. ‘Elliot’s only daughter was poorly from the beginning and she passed away not terribly long after his wife died.’

  ‘Oh, Daddy, that’s horrible,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘Yet he seems such a happy man.’

  ‘Yes, Elliot has been quite incredible through it all. I admire him very much,’ Hugh said. ‘The mere fact that he puts on that fabulous party every year is testament to him living each day to the fullest, despite the things he’s endured. If anything happened to your mother, I’d probably lock you up and throw away the key.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t, Daddy. And nothing’s happening to Mummy,’ the girl replied.

  Hugh put his arm around the girl and gave her a squeeze. ‘As if I could even think about trying to rein you in. The daughter who organised to go to boarding school at the ripe old age of seven and one quarter. There’s no stopping you, and your mother and I both know it. We couldn’t be prouder.’