Alice-Miranda to the Rescue Read Online Free Page A

He shifted from one leg to the other, his muscles straining under the weight of the chair.
    â€˜And what about the dogs?’ she asked, peering into the hallway. ‘Are there any dogs in the house?’
    â€˜No, they’re in the palace up the back,’ the fellow replied, as a trickle of perspiration snaked down his left temple.
    â€˜Thank you.’ Myrtle nodded at the man, wondering what on earth he was talking about. A palace – what nonsense! The fellow grunted as he repositioned the chair and continued down the hallway.
    â€˜I think we should come back tomorrow,’ Reg murmured as several burly removalists barrelled towards them on their way back to the truck.
    â€˜We’re here now,’ Myrtle insisted. ‘I’m sure they’ll be glad of a cup of tea and a slice of cake.’ With a look of determination, Myrtle set foot intothe house. ‘Hello! Hello!’ she called in a singsong voice. ‘Are you there, Mr Dankworth?’
    She manoeuvred around a huge pile of boxes and walked through the door at the end of the passage. It opened into a large kitchen and dining room on the left and a sitting room to the right, with a grand central fireplace dividing the spaces. A man was up a ladder, hammering a picture hook into the wall. Standing beside him was a thin woman wearing a black velour tracksuit with the letters HH in swirly silver script across her bottom. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore a full face of make-up, including glossy pink lipstick and eyelashes that would have made a Jersey cow weep with envy. A large picture frame was resting on her leg.
    â€˜Hello there, neighbours, welcome to Winchesterfield,’ Myrtle sang out just as the man swung the hammer. Startled, he missed and hit his finger.
    â€˜Ow!’ The man jammed his thumb into his mouth and looked over at Myrtle and Reg.
    â€˜Be careful, Barry,’ the woman chided. She leaned the picture against the wall and walked over to the visitors. ‘Oh my, we weren’t expecting anyone today. I must look an awful mess.’
    â€˜You’re fine, dear,’ Myrtle said. She eyed the woman, who appeared to have applied her make-up with a trowel. ‘Are you all right, Mr Dankworth?’
    â€˜Don’t mind Barry,’ the woman said. ‘It’s not the first time he’s hit his thumb this morning and I dare say it won’t be the last.’
    â€˜I’m all right,’ the man mumbled and stepped down from the ladder.
    â€˜My name’s Myrtle Parker and this is my husband, Reginald. We thought we’d welcome you to Winchesterfield and especially to Rosebud Lane,’ Myrtle said. ‘You must be Mr and Mrs Dankworth?’
    â€˜We prefer Barry and Roberta,’ the woman replied.
    â€˜I’ve brought you a hummingbird cake,’ Myrtle said, thrusting the cake box into Roberta’s hands. ‘It’s home-made. I think you’ll find we’re very good at that sort of thing around here.’
    â€˜Thank you.’ The woman smiled, revealing the whitest teeth Myrtle had ever seen. It was as if the lighting in the room had suddenly been turned up a notch.
    Reg walked over to shake Barry Dankworth’s hand. He was a handsome fellow with dark hair and warm brown eyes. ‘Sorry to land on you today,’Reg said quietly, ‘but once Myrtle has it in her mind to do something, I’m afraid there’s no getting around it.’
    â€˜Nonsense,’ Myrtle scoffed. ‘I think Mr and Mrs Dankworth look as though they need a break. Why don’t I put the kettle on?’
    Roberta glanced over at the half-empty boxes in the kitchen. She doubted whether she’d be able to find the kettle let alone the crockery, but Myrtle Parker was on a mission. The woman was digging about in the kitchen before Roberta had time to object. Within ten minutes Myrtle had located the silver kettle as well as