The Harriet Bean 3-Book Omnibus (7 page)

“Yes,” agreed Aunt Japonica. “We haven’t heard the last of that.”

Aunt Thessalonika took the object from me and placed it under a light.

“This is a plaster cast,” she said. “I take it that you know what a plaster cast is?”

I nodded. I had made casts at school, pouring the plaster into shapes to make impressions.

“Well,” continued Aunt Thessalonika, “you’ll see that this plaster cast is of a footprint.”

I felt rather disappointed by this news. I was hoping that it would be something much more exciting than that.

“Look at the toes,” said Aunt Thessalonika grimly. “Count them.”

I counted out the number of dents in the plaster where the toes had been. Six!

“Precisely!” said Aunt Japonica. “Six. What do you make of that?”

“I don’t know,” I replied truthfully.

“Neither do we,” said Aunt Thessalonika. “But we will certainly make it our business to find out!”

Suddenly Aunt Japonica looked at her watch.

“My goodness,” she said. “Time is flying past. We have work to do, I’m afraid. You can sit in that chair over there and read a book until it’s time for us to go to join the others.”

So I sat in the chair and read. Or rather, I tried to read, but my concentration kept slipping, and I sneaked glances at what my two aunts were doing. They were fussing over their desks, fiddling with microscopes and magnifying glasses, and whispering to one another. I tried hard to hear what they were saying, but it was impossible. So I gave up in the end and just waited until they were ready to go.

At last they packed up their work, locked the office behind them, and drove me off to
their house. There in the backyard was the trailer, with the table set with tea, sandwiches, and cakes, and Majolica bossing all the others around, getting things ready on time. I felt tremendously proud of myself. It had taken a little time, but at last I had assembled all my aunts in one place.

There was only one thing left to do. Now that I had found my five aunts, it was time to take them all back to show my father. Then, if only I managed to find a painter, we could have the painting finished. Not only that, of course, but the family that had been so unhappily split up so many years ago would be together again.

We traveled back that day. It was very hard work for Aunt Veronica, pedaling the trailer with all those aunts in the back, but she managed. Every few miles I would pass her a chocolate bar, which she would swallow almost in one gulp. This seemed to keep her strength up.

At last we drew up to our house. I left the
aunts in the trailer while I went in the front door. There was my father, sitting in his usual chair with his slippers on, doing a crossword puzzle.

“Hello,” he said. “I see you’re back.”

“I am,” I replied.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked, hardly raising his eyes from the puzzle.

“Yes,” I said. It was clear to me that he had forgotten all about my search for the aunts, so I slipped outside and signaled for the aunts to come in.

My father looked up from his puzzle and turned quite pale. For a moment I thought he was going to faint, but then, with a sound somewhere between a groan and a gasp, he rose to his feet.

“Harold!” said Aunt Majolica. “Look at the state of your slippers! When did you clean them last?”

Before my father had the opportunity to answer, all five aunts dashed across the room to give him a hug. Unfortunately, they knocked him back into his chair, and Aunts
Thessalonika and Japonica ended up sprawled all over him.

When they untangled each other, the aunts all stood around him, kissing him on the cheek and patting his shoulders. They were talking so much that nobody could hear what anybody else was saying. My father, however, seemed to be happy to see all his sisters, so I left them together and went up to my room.

I had left the painting behind my wardrobe, safely covered with an old sheet. Now I took it out and carried it downstairs, still draped in its sheet. My aunts were all so busy talking when I entered the room that at first nobody paid much attention to me. Then, one by one, they began to notice the large covered object that I was holding, and they fell silent.

“What on earth is that?” asked Aunt Majolica.

“It’s something I very much want to show you all,” I began. “In fact, it’s the reason why I started to look for you in the first place.”

“What can she mean?” asked Aunt Veronica, looking puzzled.

“I have no idea,” replied Aunt Japonica, who was too tired and too excited to do any mind reading.

I waited until they were silent again and then, with a dramatic pull at the sheet, I exposed the painting. As the picture came into view, there were gasps from several of the aunts.

“Oh my goodness!” exclaimed Aunt Thessalonika. “It’s that picture … the one that was never finished.” Aunt Majolica took several steps forward and examined the painting more closely.

“I believe you’re right,” she said. “Yes, look at the barn! And look, I’m wearing my favorite bracelet—the one I got for my tenth birthday.”

The other aunts crowded around to examine the picture and all of them seemed quite delighted.

“I never thought I’d see it again,” said Aunt Majolica, reaching for a handkerchief
she had tucked into her sleeve. “Oh dear! This is just all too much for me.”

And at that, she burst into tears of emotion, closely followed by her sisters. I let them weep for a moment, and then I made my announcement.

“I think we should have this picture completed,” I said. “We can find the painter, or if we can’t find him, we can find another. Then we’ll at last have the family portrait that grandfather and grandmother always wanted.”

The aunts were silent for a moment as they considered my suggestion. Then, almost with one voice, they shouted their agreement.

“A brilliant idea!” crooned Aunt Veronica. “Let’s contact the painter this very moment!”

Of course, it was not quite that easy. Although Aunt Japonica remembered the painter’s name, he had long since left the house he was living in at the time when he had started the picture. Aunt Japonica and Aunt Thessalonika, however, pointed out that
if anybody could find him it would be them, and that the rest of us should give them two hours to do so. So they dashed off and only an hour and a half later they came back, looking flushed with excitement.

“We’ve found him,” they announced proudly. “It wasn’t easy, but we found him.” They paused before continuing, “And what’s more, he has agreed to come to finish the painting first thing tomorrow morning.”

There was general jubilation at this news, and the aunts all began to talk again. I left the room, leaving the painting propped against a wall. I was delighted to have found all my aunts, but I felt that it would be best to leave them to themselves for a little while.

I could hardly wait, though, for the picture to be finished. I could already imagine it above the fireplace in our living room. I would show all my friends and announce: “My aunts!” Nobody would have as many aunts as that and I knew that everybody was bound to be very impressed. I must admit that this thought rather pleased me.

The aunts talked late into the night, until well after I had gone to bed. Then, taking themselves off to the sofas and piles of cushions, which they had set up in various odd corners of the house, they went to bed. In the silence of the darkened house, Aunt Harmonica threw her voice once or twice, but she was told by Aunt Majolica that everybody wanted to get to sleep. So she stopped, and the quiet returned.

The painter arrived early the next morning, exactly as promised. He was just as I had imagined him, although his mustache now drooped a little at the edges. When he saw the painting, his eyes lit up and he clapped his hands together.

“So there it is at last!” he exclaimed. “And it’s exactly as I remember it. I’ve always wanted to finish it, and now I have the chance.”

Without further ado, he hoisted the painting onto an easel and opened his large case of paints. Then, when he had struggled into a billowing white painting smock,
which made him look just a little like a blimp, he arranged my father and all the aunts into two rows.

“Don’t move,” he said. “It’s very important that you keep absolutely still.”

I watched as he began to paint. His brush moved quickly, and every now and then he leaned forward and peered at one of the aunts.

“I hope that he doesn’t make my nose look too big,” I heard Aunt Majolica whisper to Aunt Japonica.

“And I shall be very disappointed if he notices that my left ear is bigger than my right,” whispered back Aunt Japonica.

The painter painted for several hours. By the end of that time, I could see that my father and the aunts were beginning to feel tired of standing still, and they were relieved when the painter told them that they could have a break. They went off to sit down, but a few minutes later he had them all back again, and he painted for the rest of that day without stopping.

At the end of the day, he stood back, inspected the painting, and then closed his paint case with a snap.

“It’s finished,” he said. “That’s it.”

This announcement caused a buzz of excitement among the aunts.

“I can’t wait to see it,” announced Aunt Veronica.

The painter shook his head.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait,” he said. “I don’t want anybody to see it until the last of the paint is dry.” He looked at his watch. “And that should be at about three o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”

“Then we will have an unveiling ceremony,” Aunt Majolica said. “We’ll all gather in the living room and the picture can be officially unveiled by …”

She looked around. Every one of the other aunts was looking expectant, hoping that she would be chosen for this important task.

“By Harriet!” concluded Aunt Majolica.

I was very excited to have been chosen to unveil the picture, and every minute between
then and three o’clock the next afternoon seemed to drag interminably.

When the time for the ceremony came at last, we all gathered in the living room. The painter had arrived as well, and he had moved the painting, still covered, into a prominent place in front of the fireplace. The aunts had been busy in the kitchen the previous evening, and the tables were laden with cakes and sandwiches. Even my father, who had looked rather strained since all his sisters had arrived, was smiling and rubbing his hands with pleasure at the thought of seeing the finished picture at last.

When everything was prepared, I was ushered up to the front of the picture. The painter stood beside me, and when everybody was silent he nodded in my direction. My heart thumping with excitement, I reached out and took the edge of the cloth in my right hand. Then, with a firm tug, I pulled, and the cloth fell away to reveal the finished picture below.

Nobody said a word. My father and all the
aunts peered at the picture, their eyes narrowed, their mouths open, as they took in the details. Then, with a wail, Aunt Majolica broke the silence.

“Oh no!” she wailed. “You’ve … You’ve put the heads on the wrong bodies!”

What followed was very upsetting. The aunts all crowded around the painting and looked at it more closely. When they were satisfied that a mistake had indeed been made, they turned on the painter and began to scold him severely.

“You’ve painted Thessalonika’s head on my shoulders!” protested Aunt Japonica. “Look. That’s definitely my body and that’s undoubtedly her head!”

The painter’s jaw dropped and his mustache seemed to wiggle like the tail of a rabbit caught in a trap. There was really very little he could say to excuse himself, and he just had to stand there and accept his scolding.

“Well!” said Aunt Majolica at the end of it all. “That’s that, then. The painting is ruined. I will never be able to look at it again.”

“Nor will I,” agreed Aunt Veronica. “It’s totally spoiled.”

The painter, still looking very miserable, at last was able to summon up the courage to say something.

“Please forgive me,” he began. “I understand how you must feel. But I think I may be able to do something about it.”

“And what would that be?” demanded Aunt Majolica in her bossiest voice. “I don’t see how you can fix it now. You can’t rub out oil paint, you know.”

The painter held up his hand. “Please just give me two hours,” he said. “That’s all it will take.”

Still grumbling, the aunts agreed that he could take the painting into the kitchen and do whatever he had to do with it. None of them thought that he would be able to do much, though, and they continued to complain among themselves well after he had left the room. I felt sorry for the painter. I had often enough made mistakes with pictures to know just how upsetting it is to work for
hours on something and then realize that your efforts were to no avail.

Barely two hours later, the painter returned. He had covered the painting in a cloth again, but this time he didn’t dare say that everybody should wait until the paint was dry before they saw it. He beckoned to me and told me that I should unveil it again. So once again I stood beside the painting and gave the cloth a tug.

As the cloth fell away there was a gasp from all the aunts. Then, after a dreadful moment of suspense, Aunt Majolica gave a cheer.

“Brilliant!” she said. “What a brilliant idea!”

“I agree,” called out Aunt Thessalonika. “Really, that was the only thing to do.”

I looked at the painting and caught my breath. The bodies of my father and the aunts had all disappeared—painted over with blue waves of the sea. Only their heads showed now, bobbing above the waves. And of course
this meant that nobody could tell that the heads were on the wrong bodies, as everything below was covered with thick blue paint. And the barn, which had been the background, was now a ship.

Everybody was pleased. The cakes, which had not been touched since the terrible mistake had been discovered, were now passed around, as were the sandwiches and the glasses of homemade lemonade. The painter, relieved at having solved the problem so neatly, beamed with pleasure, and his mustache was soon covered with cream and icing. I was happy to see all my aunts so happy and was also proud that what my poor grandparents had wanted so long ago was now done.