‘We weren’t,’ Kensy said. ‘It was a lovely surprise – well, lovely for us, but maybe not for Uncle Rupert since that awful woman kicked him out her car.’
Max noticed Song shoot a look at Fitz and, again, wondered what was going on. Something about their uncle obviously set both men on edge. Song bustled over to the island bench and began to unpack the groceries.
Rupert raised his teacup in the air. ‘Hello old boy. Must be fun living in London town these days, away from the daily grind of Alexandria and all that polishing of silver and dusting of chandeliers – although I don’t suppose it will last forever.’
Song stopped what he was doing for a moment and removed his rimless glasses, before pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Will we have the pleasure of your company tonight, sir?’ he asked.
‘You’re off the hook this time,’ Rupert replied with a wink. ‘I’ve got a story to file before my date this evening, which, I must say, I hope goes better than lunch.’
Kensy looked at the man as if he were mad. ‘Do you really think she’ll be keen to see you for dinner?’
Rupert laughed. ‘Different girl, Kensington. Anyone who tries to run me down in a Porsche Boxter, of all things, is off my Christmas card list.’
‘Good to see you haven’t changed,’ Fitz remarked from where he was leaning against the wall, his muscled arms crossed over his chest.
Smiling, Rupert sat back and folded his arms too. ‘You should get out there yourself, Fitz – have some fun and remember what it’s like to be young again. You do still know how to have fun, don’t you?’
Kensy giggled. ‘I don’t think Fitz would dare,’ she said teasingly. ‘Not after Matisse Mayhew.’
Fitz groaned and cradled his head in his hands. ‘Stop! Not another word!’
‘Please, go on,’ Rupert said, his eyes twinkling. ‘This sounds like it will be a fascinating story.’
‘Mr Fitz, I do believe you have been holding out on me,’ Song added, abandoning the groceries and leaning in.
‘She was our neighbour in Thredbo,’ Kensy began gleefully. ‘And she was always dropping over to borrow this and that, and it was so obvious she was completely in love with Fitz.’
Max nodded. ‘True. I mean, who comes to borrow a cup of sugar in a full face of make-up, a mini skirt and stilettos – especially when you live in a ski resort and it’s close to freezing outside?’
‘Well, you do know what they say – love thy neighbour and all that jazz,’ Rupert said. ‘Did you take her out?’
Fitz scowled. ‘Only once, and it was under duress.’
‘They went to the fanciest place in town and, after a glass of champagne, she pulled out her diary and asked what date would work best,’ Kensy said, stifling a laugh.
Rupert frowned. ‘Date?’
‘For the wedding, of course!’ Max howled. He and Kensy dissolved into fits of giggles. ‘She had it all planned.’
Fitz sighed. ‘Right down to which font she wanted for the invitations. It was a trainwreck.’
‘What a pity, sir. I am sure you would make a very handsome groom.’ Song turned to chortle at the cabbage.
‘Yes, buck up, old boy – at least someone wanted to marry you,’ Rupert said. ‘And she doesn’t sound that bad for a delusional psychopath.’ He stood up from the kitchen table and walked to the sink. ‘Lovely tea, Kensington, but I should make a move. You know, saving the world and all that.’
‘Already?’ Kensy pouted.
‘Sorry, sweetheart, but I’ll see you again soon,’ Rupert said. He gave a wave, then bounded up the timber staircase with Wellie and Mac hot on his heels.
‘Traitors, both of you,’ Fitz said, shaking his head at the twins. He waited to hear the front door close. ‘Rupert won’t be letting me live that one down in a hurry. He’s always been a smug so-and-so when it comes to women. He used to do his best to make me and your father look like complete losers to any girls we were ever keen on.’
‘Sorry, Fitz,’ Max said, smiling from ear to ear. ‘We shouldn’t have said anything. I can imagine Uncle Rupert giving you and Dad a hard time.’
‘That would be the understatement of the century,’ Fitz said.
‘Uncle Rupert can’t help it if he’s a lot cooler than you and Dad,’ Kensy said. ‘Some people are just born that way.’ She blew on her knuckles and rubbed them against her shoulder.
Max rolled his eyes. ‘I know you think he’s amazing, Kens, but if you ask me, Uncle Rupert’s tricky. He talks in riddles half the time and I don’t think he ever says what he really means. And who has two girlfriends on the go at the same time? That’s not very considerate to either woman.’
‘Considerate is certainly not a word I would ever use in the same breath as your uncle’s name,’ Song said, running a colander of string beans under the tap.
Kensy bit her lip. Max had a point. Their uncle was a hard man to get a handle on, and she supposed that was why she found him so fascinating. One minute he was funny and helpful; the next he was making snide remarks and she had no idea whether he was being unkind or just stirring the pot for his own amusement. He was a liar too – she’d seen him tip his entire cup of tea down the sink. She shrugged. ‘I still like him.’
‘Confucius says he who acts with a constant view to his own advantage will be much murmured against,’ Song said, snapping the ends off the beans. ‘And, for as long as I have known your uncle, I do not believe he has ever thought more highly of anyone than himself, except perhaps once and that ended in tragedy.’
‘Song!’ Fitz barked.
The butler glanced up, chastened, then hurried away into the pantry.
Kensy and Max looked at each other. They’d never heard a harsh word spoken between the two men before and wondered what that was all about.
Fitz turned the corner into Belgrave Mews and drove down the cobblestoned road.
‘I love this street,’ Max said, admiring the pretty white Mews houses with their attic windows, wrought-iron railings and coach lamps. ‘I can just imagine all the horses trotting along here, pulling their carriages.’
‘Indeed, Master Maxim,’ Song said. ‘Years ago these garage doors would have been timber gates leading to courtyards with stables and servants quarters above. Some of them are now separate houses, but most of Belgrave Mews have remained part of the original mansions facing on to Wilton Crescent.’
A single garage door opened on the left and Fitz manoeuvred the car inside. Once it had closed again, the floor began to sink and they were quickly deposited beneath the London residence of Dame Cordelia Spencer and into a garage large enough to accommodate at least ten vehicles. The turntable spun around and Fitz steered the four-wheel drive into the space nearest the lift.
The group hopped out of the car with Wellie and Mac in tow. The dogs didn’t live with Cordelia full time as her city butler, Sidney, who also happened to be Song’s twin brother, was allergic to them. However, the man could tolerate short visits once in a while, as long as they didn’t get too close.
Song pressed the button for the lift while the twins and the dogs bounded up the timber stairs. The townhouse, set over seven floors, was vast and opulent like Alexandria, Dame Spencer’s estate in North Yorkshire, just on a much smaller footprint. There was a beautiful rooftop garden as well as another large courtyard off the kitchen.
Wellie and Mac scurried along the hallway, their claws trip-tripping on the parquet floor. They jumped at the kitchen door, waiting for the children to catch up. Max pushed it open and was surprised to see his apron-clad grandmother standing at the stove, mid-battle, surrounded by an artillery of pots and pans. She enveloped the boy in her arms and kissed the top of his head.
‘Hello darlings,’ she said, reaching out to hug Kensy too.
‘Something smells amazing,’ Kensy said, her stomach letting out a low rumble.
Cordelia wiped her hands on a tea towel and dispatched an empty pot into the wide porcelain sink at one end of the island bench. ‘I’m glad y
ou’re hungry as I think I might have cooked a bit more than we need. How does a lamb roast with baked vegetables, cauliflower au gratin, honeyed carrots, beans and peas and a frangipani pie with custard and ice-cream for dessert sound? The pie is my dear friend Faye’s recipe, which I can’t wait for you to try. Although I don’t think I’ve ever baked one to the same standard as hers.’
The country-style kitchen cabinetry was predominantly white, with a contrasting dark blue for the island. The room was certainly lived-in, with a pile of recipe books perched beside a crystal vase bursting with pink roses on the bench next to the fridge. A line of linen tea towels hung from the rail on the range-cooker door. At the far end of the room, a small round dining table sat in front of a bay window with double doors leading to a terrace.
Wellie and Mac’s noses twitched before they spotted their food bowls in the corner, each with two large bones fresh from the butcher.
‘Oh, good, you’ve noticed your presents,’ Cordelia said as the two terriers scampered away to enjoy the treats.
The children sat down at the island bench and Kensy helped herself to a choc-chip cookie from a jar just as Fitz and Song arrived in the room.
Cordelia greeted Fitz with a hug and a kiss. ‘Hello dear.’
Fitz stepped back to appraise the scene. ‘You’re looking very … domestic goddess.’
‘Good evening, Dame Spencer,’ Song said with a bow. He hesitated, frowning at the chaos in front of him. ‘May I enquire as to why Sidney is not in charge of the kitchen this evening? Perhaps we need to ask Mrs Thornthwaite to come down to London to teach my brother some new dishes if his culinary skills are no longer to your satisfaction.’
‘Oooh, shots fired,’ Max whispered to Kensy, who grinned with chocolate in her teeth.
Cordelia chuckled. ‘You know cooking helps me wind down, Song. Don’t worry, your brother is hard at work upstairs, putting away the crystal after the drinks party I hosted last night. Honestly, I didn’t think Gabriel was ever going home. It reached a point where I had to ask Sidney to start switching off the lights.’
‘That’s the Prime Minister she’s talking about,’ Kensy whispered to Max.
The boy rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, Kens, I know – everyone knows that.’
Kensy poked her tongue out at her brother. ‘I bet there aren’t that many eleven-year-old kids who do.’
‘Well, they should,’ Max said. ‘It’s called keeping up with current affairs.’
‘Very good, ma’am. I will go and see if Sidney needs my assistance.’ Song bowed and left the room.
Cordelia turned back to the twins. ‘So how was school?’ she asked.
‘Fine,’ Kensy said, a picture of nonchalance. She took another bite of her biscuit.
Max shot Fitz a sideways glance. ‘Kensy set the Science lab on fire today and we had to evacuate the building, but I’m guessing you already know that,’ he said, wincing at the kick to the shins swiftly delivered by his sister.
Cordelia smacked her lips together and deposited a vanilla pod into a saucepan of milk on the stove. ‘I had heard something.’
‘Geez, how many times do I have to say it? I didn’t mean to,’ Kensy huffed, rolling her eyes. ‘And you don’t have to blab to everyone, Max. Besides, Vanden Boom said that there’s no way that fire snake should have turned into a flamethrower.’
Cordelia separated three egg yolks into a bowl and added an ounce of caster sugar along with two teaspoons of cornflour. ‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly rational explanation for it.’
‘Would you like a hand mixing that?’ Max asked, hopping off his stool. He walked around to the other side of the bench to stand beside his grandmother.
Cordelia touched the side of the boy’s cheek. ‘Your father was always helping me in the kitchen when he was a boy.’
‘Really? He hardly ever cooked for us. It was mostly Fitz or Mum. Dad occasionally tackled the barbecue, except he usually burned the sausages,’ Kensy said. ‘Mum makes fantastic crepes. Just wait until you taste them.’
Cordelia locked eyes with her granddaughter. ‘And when do you think I’ll have that pleasure?’
‘Um, I don’t know,’ Kensy said quickly. ‘When they come back.’
Fitz looked at Cordelia then at the children. ‘Your grandmother is aware of the situation.’
Kensy and Max’s eyes widened.
‘Fitz briefed me, but we mustn’t tell another soul,’ Cordelia said. ‘If I know your mother and father, they are more than capable of looking after themselves.’
‘Can you put more resources on the case to help them?’ Kensy asked.
Cordelia sighed and shook her head. ‘We’ll monitor things and, if your parents ask for help, I’ll do whatever is in my power. Clearly, though, they have their reasons for going it alone at the moment.’
Kensy thought that whatever was in her grandmother’s power was probably quite a lot.
‘I don’t know how you’ve been able to bear being apart from Mum and Dad and Fitz for all these years, Granny,’ Max said. ‘It was easy for us – we didn’t know anything about you. But if we had, we would have hated it.’
‘Oh, darling Max, it’s been the hardest thing in my life,’ Cordelia said with a weary smile. ‘But just think what a reunion we’ll have when your parents are back and we’re all together.’
Kensy nodded. ‘We should have a huge party, just like we did for Christmas except with better music.’
‘Excuse me, young lady, what was wrong with our playlist?’ Cordelia peered at the girl over the top of her glasses.
‘Nothing, if you like Elvis and country music,’ the girl said, grinning, as Song and Sidney walked through the door.
‘Miss Kensington, how wonderful to hear that you have finally acquired some musical taste,’ Sidney said. The man muttered into his sleeve and a loud burst of ‘Now or Never’ blared from invisible speakers.
‘Stop! My ears are bleeding,’ Kensy complained, but Max hummed along with great enthusiasm to peals of laughter from the adults.
If anyone were to catch a glimpse of the scene, they would have thought the Spencers to be just about the most normal family on the street.
Saturday morning dawned grey and wet. Kensy lay under the covers, listening to the steady patter of rain against the window. She’d been awake for a while but, unlike every other morning in her short life, hadn’t been able to face getting out of bed just yet. She was missing her mother terribly and her mind was still churning about the previous day’s events. Despite what everyone said, she couldn’t shake the thought that someone was out to get her and Max.
A shadow passed under the doorway.
‘Is that you, Max?’ Kensy asked.
When there was no answer, she reached for the pen on the bedside table that also doubled as a stun gun. The shadow moved and one of the floorboards on the landing groaned. Kensy sat up, her heart racing in her chest. She aimed the pen at the door, her thumb hovering over the trigger as she watched the handle turn and the door slowly push open.
Max’s head appeared. ‘Whoa!’ he said, raising his hands in surrender. ‘Steady on, Kens, that thing’s a beast.’
Kensy collapsed with relief and returned the pen to the bedside table. ‘Sorry, I was just being …’
‘Paranoid?’ Max glanced around the room at the piles of clothes, books, shoes, machine parts and other bits and pieces his sister had left lying on the floor. ‘To be honest, no one’s ever going to murder you in your bed when presented with an obstacle course like this.’
‘Very funny.’ Kensy rolled her eyes and pushed back the covers. ‘At least I don’t waste my time being obsessive compulsive like you.’
Max leant back on the doorframe and watched his sister wrangle her wild blonde tresses into a French braid. He spotted a soldering iron in a pot plant and shook his head. ‘Carlos is coming over later so we can finish our Maths research. We’re going to the Natural History Museum afterwards if you’re interested. Apparently, there’s a ne
w exhibition.’
Kensy groaned. ‘I forgot about that assignment. I suppose I should get started on it. The last thing I need is for Miss Ziegler to be on my case too.’
‘You’re welcome to join us,’ Max said. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Kensy was still in bed and that was most unlike her. She was always up before him and had been known to smash saucepan lids or blow a whistle in his ear to wake him up, which was especially evil given he was a light sleeper. He paused and added, gently, ‘Don’t worry about what happened yesterday, Kens. I’m sure it was just an accident.’
His sister folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow at him. ‘That’s a lie if ever I’ve heard one. I know you went back to the Science lab and took our ingredients to test them for yourself.’
Max swallowed hard. He thought he’d done a great job getting everything without anyone noticing. ‘How did you know?’
‘Ha!’ Kensy leapt to her feet and began to bounce on the bed. ‘I didn’t. Don’t you remember that was a confessional tactic Mr Reffell taught us last week? I’m so impressed it worked – and that means you’re as worried as I am!’
Max’s face fell. ‘Well, that’s a big fat fail for me.’
‘What time’s Carlos coming?’ Kensy asked, still bouncing.
‘Around midday.’
She glanced at the clock on her bedside table and jumped to the floor. It was just past eight. ‘Perfect! We’ve still got time to test that theory of yours.’
‘My theory?’ Max frowned. ‘I can’t imagine Fitz and Song would be too thrilled if we set the house on fire, especially after what happened in class yesterday.’
Kensy ran to the window and stared into the street. ‘I’ve got an idea,’ she said, spinning around to look at him. Her green eyes burned with mischief. ‘There’s an empty townhouse right across the road. We could do the experiment in the cellar.’
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