Davina Dupree Predicts a Plot Read Free

girls. ‘Several first years’ mothers have kindly offered to stay with us from now until the end of the play, to help make some sensational costumes, so I would like you to welcome them to our school please.’ Everyone clapped.
    I looked round and saw a table full of mothers absolutely CAKED in makeup, wearing expensive suits, with brightly painted nails on the ends of their fingers that clasped fluted wine glasses. There was one small girl sitting next to the woman at the end, who had her finger up her nose.
    ‘That’s Hippolyta, Clarice’s little sister,’ Arabella whispered loudly. ‘She must have come with her mum, Mrs Blinkham. Obviously as charming as her big sis.’
    ‘We call her
Polly
for short, not Hippolyta,’ Clarice, who’d overheard, hissed at Arabella.
    So now we’re back in our dorm after a day of lessons, doing some homework, although I can’t really concentrate. Alfie Calpone and Stephania Sellwig are supposed to be arriving in a little while and…well...it’s exciting! I’ve never met anyone famous before…
Wednesday 3 rd November
    Oh. My. Goodness. Diary!
    Never in all my life have I EVER seen such a fuss and commotion as when Alfie and Stephania arrived yesterday. Never!
    Oh for goodness sake, where do I start? Well, I was just finishing a history essay about Henry the Eighth, he was certainly a THOROUGHLY UNPLEASANT king, when all this screaming started outside. At first I wondered if Mrs Fairchild had bumped into someone in her Rolls Royce (she’s not a very good driver and has flattened the gardener’s prize roses twice) but then I heard chants of, “Alfie, Alfie”, through the screaming.
    Arabella and I literally pelted out of our dorm, along the corridors and out of the massive front doors to find complete chaos in front of us. There was a sea of Egmont girls dressed in glittery pink and white uniforms, bobbing around six long, black shiny cars that had pulled up in the crescent drive.
    Cleo and Clarice were suctioned to the sides of the first car like leeches and it was them screaming, “Alfie, Alfie”. Someone inside the car was trying to get the door open but they couldn’t because Clarice’s body was blocking it. In the end the head girl, sixth former Rosalie Arbunkle, who was looking a bit flushed herself, had to peel Clarice away from the car like a banana skin and drag her over to one side.
    The door crashed open and a small man who seemed to be made entirely of round, polished curves, got out. He was bald on top except for a fringe of hair round the base of his head and wore an expression like Carrie’s friend’s pug dog – sort of jowly and displeased.
    ‘That’s him,’ Arabella whispered. ‘That’s Alfie Calpone. He looks shorter in real life.’
    ‘Yeah, yeah, hello to you all and all that,’ Alfie shouted, eyebrows lowered, no trace of a smile. His voice was deep and rough, as though he’d just eaten a ton of gravel. ‘Now can someone tell me where I can get a drink around here? And can you girls move out of my way so my people can unpack my luggage? We need some space so move back will you.’ Well! How incredibly unappealing.com . It’s a good thing Carrie’s not here or she’d have given him a loud piece of her mind for arriving like that, famous or not.
    At that moment our drama teacher, Mrs De Nero, came floating round the corner. Mrs De Nero reminds me of a human butterfly, she has long, wavy white hair that wafts out behind her wherever she goes, and she always wears loose, patterned scarves, tops and trousers that seem to flap like butterfly wings when she moves. She went up and kissed the unsmiling Alfie on both cheeks then escorted him off to his luxury, guest apartment, while his ‘people’ dragged suitcase after suitcase out of the six cars.
    ‘Is he moving in forever?’ I whispered to Arabella in wonder and she grinned back, shrugging. How can anyone have that much stuff? Some of the cases and bags were labelled with stickers that