Melissa Bowen Chronicles of Allegra

Chronicles of Allegra

chapter one

One day left.

Squeezing her toes into the battered pair of leather shoes, Allegra adjusted the patch of tape that hid the hole underneath, and folded her socks over to hide the splits. She patted down the knots in her hair as best she could, and pulled on the oversized dress, tying an old string round her waist as a makeshift belt to keep it in place.

Just one day.

One day to convince a family to take her.

‘You can do this,’ she told herself.

Are you sure? The voice in her head didn’t agree.

Giving herself one last pat down, Allegra headed to breakfast. If today didn’t go well, there might not be another.

‘Did you hear that howling last night?’ Freya, one of the eldest, asked sweetly.

‘You mean the dogs?’ the little girl replied sleepily, stirring her halfeaten slop.

‘Dogs?’ Freya laughed. ‘Dogs? Don’t you mean werewolves? It was a full moon last night, you know. The Witch was letting her werewolves out for dinner.’

There was a clatter as some of the younger girls dropped their spoons in fright.

‘Looks like they won’t be wanting the rest of their breakfast,’ Freya smirked, as the rest of the table giggled.

You could see the outline of the Witch’s house from the top floor of

the home. On a full moon, when you could hear howls from across the town, Ms Gertrude would growl at the girls and wave a finger.

‘Misbehave and I’ll send you to the Witch on the hill,’ she would threaten. ‘She’s always looking for little girls to cook in her cakes!’

It was enough to keep all of the girls in line… most of the time. They all knew that keeping Ms Gertrude happy was the easiest way to find a family. She always knew what each family wanted.

The families that came to Ms Gertrude’s were of a certain sort. Coats of fluffy fur and exotic smooth silk scarves, with cars that gleamed so brightly, you could see your reflection in them.

Allegra could cook, clean, didn’t take up much space, and was well practised at staying quiet, but still every family had overlooked her so far. Allegra knew that she could be a perfect daughter to the right home. But it never seemed to happen. Families came and went, but they never picked her. There was always something each family was looking for… but never a daughter. Now time was running out. Today was her last chance to impress.

chapter two

Waiting was always the hardest bit.

Ms Gertrude would meet the guests and take them round the nicer parts of the home, the parts the girls weren’t usually allowed in. Then, she would call the girls in to demonstrate their talents, and the visitors would decide if they wanted to take the girl home. Today’s first family was taking tea in the gardens with Ms Gertrude.

It was a glorious day; the birds were singing and Ms Gertrude had brought out the best china and table decorations. Allegra’s heart was hammering in her ears.

‘Allegra. Allegra, can you hear me child? Pour the tea!’

Allegra blinked. ‘Yes, sorry, Ms Gertrude.’ She had gently lifted the

teapot to begin pouring, when she noticed a spider crawling onto the edge of the table.

Ms Gertrude had noticed it too, blinking furiously for Allegra to continue pouring as she spoke. ‘Mr and Mrs Vanderspiel,’ she said, ‘I’m sure you would agree Allegra here would make a great addition to your household. Polite, well behaved and learns very quickly.’

‘Yes, well, Mr Vanderspiel and I were ideally looking for a younger child. This one seems a bit old to train.’ Mrs Vanderspiel eyed Allegra up and down over the brim of her glasses, which were encrusted with stones that sparkled like diamonds.

‘No training needed with this one, I assure you. Isn’t that right, Allegra?’

Allegra, who was still eyeing the spider, dragged her eyes to the Vanderspiels, both of whom were wrapped in their overly thick fur coats, and smiled. ‘Yes. I can cook, clean, sew and look after the little ones. No job is too big for me.’ Her smile wobbled as her jaw began to twitch. She forced it to be still, hoping they hadn’t noticed.

‘Mmm,’ Mrs Vanderspiel replied, lifting her cup towards her lips.

Before Allegra could speak, the scream erupted. The tiny spider was now eye level with Mrs Vanderspiel, and she threw her cup in the air, emptying the tea all over Mr Vanderspiel’s fur coat.

Before Ms Gertrude could even offer an apology, they had stormed out, muttering a list of complaints, all of which seemed to be somehow blaming Allegra, who despondently began clearing up the mess. It was only a spider and it wasn’t her fault. How could something as small as that have ruined her chances?

But it wasn’t over yet.

Isn’t it? came the voice. Maybe you should give up now; it’s obvious nobody wants you.

Scooping up the spider and relocating it somewhere safe, Allegra tried to ignore the voice.

Nobody wants you.

Nobody will take you.

Even your own family dumped you with nothing but a name.

Family number two arrived. This time it was a mother and her four children, all much younger than Allegra. Ms Gertrude welcomed them into the library.

When Allegra entered, Ms Gertrude was chatting away, while the two smallest children sat hitting each other.

‘Ah Allegra, come and meet Mrs Warnock and her delightful children. Mr Warnock works away a lot, so Mrs Warnock is looking for someone trustworthy to join their household and help with these angels.’

They definitely weren’t angels, but how bad could four little children be? Allegra nodded politely to Mrs Warnock and stood patiently as they talked.

It seemed to be going well.

Mrs Warnock smiled at Allegra. ‘Come here, please, and let me get a better look at you.’

Allegra smiled back, her stomach doing a little flip. This could be it!

A painful thud followed, as her elbows connected with the floor, and mischievous giggles escaped from the children.

‘Can’t you even walk without tripping over your own feet?’ gasped Mrs Warnock.

Allegra glanced round at the culprits. ‘I think one of the children tripped me up.’ Before she finished her sentence, she knew it had been a mistake.

‘How dare you accuse my children of such behaviour? To think, I almost welcomed you into my home! Come on, children, we’re leaving!’ Mrs Warnock stormed out, followed by the children, all of whom were sticking their tongues out behind their mother’s back.

Allegra waited for Ms Gertrude to start yelling at her, but instead she spoke softly and calmly. ‘One family left, Allegra, one family. You know what happens tomorrow if they don’t take you, child. It’s out of my hands then.’ Dusting herself off, she stood, leaving Allegra alone in the pristine fake library.

Told you so, the voice sniggered. Hope you like the great outdoors.

Allegra sat in the garden waiting for the next summons. She soaked in the fresh aromas of mint and sweet-smelling honeysuckle blooming around her. A nearby tree rustled as the birds hopped around the branches being nosy.

‘Allegra,’ Ms Gertrude called. ‘It’s time.’

Allegra followed the call up to the patio, where the china had been reset and the table laid perfectly once more. An elderly woman with a stern, crinkled face sat looking like she’d had a board shoved down her back. Allegra swallowed back the breakfast slop, which was threatening to make a reappearance and, reaching in her pocket, fiddled with a small piece of cloth.

Allegra always had a small piece of something in her pocket. She never knew when she would need to patch her dress, so it was always handy to collect scraps when they came along. If she ever had any that were too small to use, she would give them to the birds to pull apart for their nests. The current scrap she had found at the bottom of the laundry, looking like it definitely didn’t belong. Rubbing it between her fingertips once more she pushed it back down, then released her hand from her pocket.

‘Allegra, this is Madame Pendleton.’ Ms Gertrude said cautiously. ‘She has kindly offered to consider you for her household...’

The warning was clear.

Last chance.

Don’t mess up.

But you always do…

The voice would always be there, but a warm bed would not. Allegra nodded politely. ‘It’s an honour to meet you, Mrs Pendleton,’ she said, nodding meekly.

‘Madame! You rude child. Madame! Did you not listen?’ The disgust dripped off her.

Allegra opened her mouth to apologise, but Madame Pendleton went on.

‘Ms Gertrude has informed me of your… situation. As a good person I feel it is my duty to try and help. I have an… opening in my household. You will be expected to be up at five every day and you will be provided with a cupboard in the basement for your board. I run a tight house and I do not tolerate laziness. Do you understand?’

Allegra nodded. Okay, so it wasn’t the family she had hoped for. The wrinkled glare of Madame Pendleton was cold and cruel. But Ms Gertrude had been clear. This was her last chance.

Madame Pendleton stood, leaning heavily on a wooden stick, with gold patterns weaved into its design. Ms Gertrude nervously nodded, mentioning reductions in fees for her charitable offer.

It was going so smoothly, and Allegra finally allowed herself to feel some hope.

Until the rustling in the trees.

Madame Pendleton’s screams ripped through the garden as a flash of black feathers hurtled down towards her, cawing and clawing and pecking, before swooping round to launch another attack. The woman waved her stick, furiously cursing and swiping, as her hair came loose from its grips and Ms Gertrude tried to shoo the bird away. On the third swoop down though, Madame Pendleton was ready and landed a blow, sending the creature crashing to the floor. Then she raised her stick again, as high as her frail arms could manage.

‘NO!’ screamed Allegra, shielding the bird. The stick connected painfully with her head. ‘Please stop! He’s my friend.’ She bent to the ground and cradled the old raven in her arms.

The look of horror on Ms Gertrude’s face was matched only by the look of disgust still stamped on Madame Pendleton’s dishevelled one. The woman tutted. ‘Well, let’s see if your friend can feed you out on the street!’ Stamping her stick with each step, she exited the garden, followed by an apologetic Ms Gertrude.

Releasing the bundle of feathers from her arms, Allegra placed the bird down carefully. ‘I hope you’re okay, but you shouldn’t have done that.

That was my last chance…’ She slumped to the floor as the raven tilted its head. Clicking its beak, it made a weird gurgling noise and nudged her.

‘It’s not your fault, I didn’t like her much either. But she was my last chance before…’ Allegra couldn’t finish the sentence, the word ‘tomorrow’ stuck in her throat like a stone. She sighed instead. ‘I know you don’t speak my language, but it’s like you’re the only one that really understands me.’

Allegra tickled the end of the raven’s beak softly as it cawed, its inner eyelids opening and closing slowly in approval. The raven began preening its feathers, sliding each one between its powerful beak, straightening them out where Madame Pendleton had attacked. One feather, which was slightly loose, wiggled out in its beak, freeing itself from the others. It stood, head tilted once more, with the feather held in its beak, before placing it into Allegra’s hand as way of apology.

‘Accepted.’ She smiled, forgetting for just a moment the fear that lay ahead.

Tomorrow she was on her own.

Told you so.

Rosie Kit Brown

Rosie Kit Brown is an author of middle grade and adult fiction based in Clapham, London. Raised in mid-Wales, her writing often explores the culture of the contemporary British countryside and the impacts of rural deprivation, education and neurological differences on children and young people. She has recently completed an MA in Writing for Young People at Bath Spa University, following a BA in Creative Writing. Rosie has worked as a bookseller and financial journalist, and now works for a literary agency.

rosiebrownwriting@gmail.com / @byrosiebrown

About The Edge of Autumn

The Edge of Autumn is a middle grade adventure verse novel that begins in South Dorset and ends in North Italy. When his mum dies, young carer Oliver is set the task of delivering her goodbye letters to her mysterious old friends around Europe. We follow him and his eccentric, newly returned Dad across six European countries on a mission to deliver the letters.

Every person to whom they deliver a letter has a child whose character is in tension with their parents’ passion. A photographer with a camera-shy daughter, a trapeze artist with a son who is terrified of heights, a museum curator with a clumsy daughter and a punk singer with a child who is tone deaf. Oliver is the son of a mother who believed in everyone, but has never been able to believe in himself.

With the help of his Dad, a colour-blind painter, can he be brave, find his self-belief and fulfil his mother’s final wishes?