The Captain’s beard drips onto his Viking chest. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, it’s chucking it down, Spencer. You can lose the shades.’ Spencer shrugs and puts his sunglasses in his pocket. ‘Right, listen up, everyone – today we’re going to kick off with evasion and tracking. Skills we may need to use when Korolev’s school arrives.’
‘Sounds easy enough to me,’ says Spencer.
The Captain waggles a gnarled finger in his direction. ‘Think you know it all already, son? In that case, you can be one of our marks. You too, Merv.’
‘Me?’ Merv’s monobrow leaps so high it could win a Scarlet Slipper.
Lottie’s eyes flick at Willow. ‘Better stick wiv me, Milly . . .’ Her Swanphone hums. ‘Hang on, I’ve got a message.’
‘What is it, Li?’ asks the Captain.
Lottie chews her lip. ‘I need to be excused. Got an OFA.’
‘An OFA?’ I ask.
‘Order From Above.’ She squeezes my arm. ‘Don’t like the way Willow and her gang are lookin’ at you. Keep well out their way, all right?’
I nod but all my courage seems to pad away with Lottie’s footsteps.
‘Kydd, are you listening?’ says the Captain.
‘Uh?’
‘Thought not. There’s only one place daydreaming will get you in this line of work.’ He points at the clouds. ‘Switch off like that and you’re dead. Garrick, tell Kydd what I just said, would you?’
The boy next to Willow says, ‘You were asking for a third volunteer, Captain.’
The Captain grins. ‘Well, done, Kydd – you just got yourself the job. The rest of you get into pairs. Your goal is to to track our three marks. Remember, this isn’t hide and seek. Keep quiet. Keep out of sight. Marks – use your initiative. Trackers – keep your eyes open for evidence. Spencer, Merv, Kydd you’ve got a three minute head start. I want you all back here in one hour. Anyone who shows up late will find themselves on the Dance of Death.’
Willow’s friend, Garrick, lasers me in half with his eyeballs.
‘Three, two, one . . . go!’
‘Split!’ shouts Spencer, making for the school. Merv disappears through the archway. Garghhh. I panic and shoot off in the opposite direction.
Big mistake. Before I know it, I’m in the woods, stamping down brambles and pushing back branches. Dollops of rain plop through the leaves and drip off my nose. The air smells of wet cat.
There’s a shout behind me. ‘She went that way!’ Footsteps stomp over the cobbles, then thump across the damp earth. So much for keeping quiet and out of sight.
I crash through the undergrowth, swiping at twigs and leaves.
Footsteps pound after me.
The path forks three ways. Which way do I go now? There’s a whizz over my head. A branch above me crackles. A muffled laugh follows. Willow shouts out, ‘Don’t be stupid, Garrick. If the Captain catches you using the Zipper, he’ll make us all do the Dance of Death!’
The Zipper? My heart jetés. I pull off my hoody. Hurl it down one track then follow another. The branches knit closer together. The path narrows until there is no path. I clamber over a fallen tree. Slide across the mossy bark. Hit the ground and choke back a cry. Not because of my burning toes, but because, right in front of me, is the lake.
A cold, grey, watery full stop.
Shivering, I wait for the footsteps. The catcalls. The Zipper. But the only sound is my raggedy breath and the pittery-pat of rain on the lake. No footsteps. No voices. No Willow.
I slide through the mud. Drawn up on the bank is a small, blue boat. Nestled under the trees behind it is a little hut. Somewhere to hide until the hour is up.
The door is stuck. I push as hard as I can and collapse inside.
But someone has beaten me to it.
11
The Secrets of Swan House
Instictively I duck as a foot whizzes past my ear.
I scramble to my feet. ‘Spencer! Stop!’
‘Kydd?’ Spencer drops his fists then holds his finger to his lips. ‘Keep it down. Perkins and her gang are out there somewhere.’
‘I know. Garrick just tried to Zip me. Is that bad?’
Spencer whistles. ‘You remember the Captain said our Swanphones had inbuilt weapons systems? The Zipper’s like a stun gun, only worse. You were lucky.’
Blimey.
I tug a twig out of my hair. ‘How did you get here without being seen?’
‘Same as you.’
‘No, you didn’t. That door hasn’t been opened for ages.’
Spencer folds his arms. ‘How do you think I got here?’
I turn around slowly. The window’s too small to climb through and there aren’t any holes in the roof. I stamp the boarded floor. Next to Spencer’s foot is an old rug. I kick it back.
‘No way. Is that a trap door?’
‘Yes. This place is so cool. You’ll never guess where it goes.’
My eyes run over Spencer’s spotless trainers. His clean blue joggers. The bottoms of mine are a sludgy brown.
‘The school! It goes to the school. You haven’t even been in the woods, have you?’
‘Well done, Bond. The door leads to a tunnel. Lots of them, in fact. Lord Whatshisname dug them when he built the house. Look.’
Spencer tugs on a rusty handle set into the floor and we both peer into the darkness. He shines his Swanphone down a winding stone staircase.
‘How did you find out about this?’ My voice is all echoey.
‘Ivan. He found the tunnels when he was a student.’
‘I’m surprised he’s allowed to show you. Every time I ask Filipp a question, he tells me the answer’s classified.’
‘I asked Ivan about that. Apparently, he helped design the first ever MNTR program when he was at school and made some ‘adjustments’. Don’t tell Mr Special, will you? He’ll spoil all my fun. So far, I’ve taken one tunnel that comes out in Madame’s study and another that goes down to the lab where Madge Little develops her doobries.’
‘Doobries? Are they something to do with shoes?’
Spencer grins. ‘Madge’s real job is making spy gadgets. You know, poisonous plasters and flying tutus.’
‘Flying tutus? Don’t be silly, Spencer. Anyway, how come you’re allowed to go wandering around down there?’
‘I’m not. That’s why it’s cool.’
‘So why haven’t you been caught?’
Spencer shrugs. ‘I think the tunnels must be so secret there aren’t any security cameras. Anyway, if you don’t fancy facing the Dance of Death tonight, we’d better get back.’ He lifts the trap door. ‘You coming or taking the scenic route? Apart from Ivan, I’ve only seen one rat so far.’
‘No thanks. Willow should have gone by now. I’ve got to find my hoody.’
I help Spencer slide the hatch over his blond head, then jog back to the fork in the path. I scour the forest floor, but my hoody’s gone. A trail of footprints leads down a muddy track winding away from the lake.
There’s a grunt behind me.
I spin around. A startled eyebrow jiggles in the shadows. ‘Merv! You scared me. What are doing out here? I thought you went to the dorms.’
Merv looks like he’s been crying. ‘I panicked. Then I got lost and my Swanphone refused to help. Kydd, you’ve got to get me back in time. There’s no way I’d survive the Dance of Death.’
I spot a patch of pale blue behind a tree. ‘OK, I’ll just grab my hoody.’
But as I get closer, my hoody twitches. A twig snaps under my foot.
‘Who is it?’ croaks a voice from behind the trunk.
I round the tree and see Garrick slumped under it. His face is green and pasty but he still manages to blush when he sees me. ‘Oh. It’s you.’
I hang back. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Went over on my ankle when we were running back, but the others just left me.’ He grimaces. ‘I think it’s broken.’
‘Someone else’ll help him,’ says Merv. ‘Come on, Kydd. WE�
��RE TALKING ABOUT THE DANCE OF DEATH!’
Garrick clutches his ankle. ‘Your mate’s right. The Dance is no fun, believe me.’ Thunder rumbles over the lake and he shivers.
Merv waves his wrist under my nose. ‘The time, Kydd. LOOK AT THE TIME!’
I turn to leave but Willow’s voice whispers in my ear. My leg is hurting, it says. I ignored Willow back then and look where it got me.
‘Sorry, Merv. We’ve got to help. I mean, the Dance of Death – how hard can it be?’ I crouch down next to Garrick. ‘Let’s get you to the infirmary.’
By the time we’ve dropped Garrick at the infirmary, we’re really, really late. The Captain frowns when he spots us tramping towards him. His Thor-sized shadow looms across the cobbles. ‘Follow me.’
He takes me and a whimpering Merv past the obstacle course and keeps on walking. We slog away from the lake until he stops at a tall wooden fence post. ‘The Dance of Death,’ he says.
I gaze up. The fence stretches into the woods. Between the posts, barbed wire glints blood-red against the rust-coloured sky. ‘I-I don’t understand.’
‘Don’t you see, Kydd?’ groans Merv. ‘It’s a test. We have to circumnavigate the school grounds.’
That doesn’t sound so bad. It might take all night but it’s not going to kill us.
‘It’s a test all right,’ says the Captain. ‘Of strength, endurance, balance and coordination. What Merv didn’t mention is that the cirumnavigation takes place up there.’
‘What?’
‘You must dance from post to post. I don’t need to tell you what’ll happen if you make a mistake.’
The posts are a jeté apart. I won’t last five minutes. Merv won’t last one.
‘I don’t want to die,’ says Merv.
The Captain’s beard twitches. ‘Then it’s lucky you’re both off the hook. Nurse told us you’d helped Garrick. But let this be a warning to you; we can’t tolerate failure at Swan House – the stakes are too high.’
I take one last look at the top of the post. He can say that again.
It’s really, really, really late when Merv and I limp into the refectory. Spencer’s the only person in there. He waves us over to his table.
‘Water, I need water,’ says Merv.
‘What’s the matter with him?’ says Spencer.
‘I can’t feel my face,’ says Merv.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve done the Dance of Death?’
I explain about Garrick. ‘We were lucky. The Captain let us off.’
Spencer digs in his bag. ‘I don’t understand why you helped Garrick. He tried to Zip you.’
‘You’d have done the same thing, Spencer,’ I say.
‘No, he wouldn’t,’ says Merv.
‘No, I wouldn’t,’ says Spencer. He hands me a sandwich. ‘At least you missed supper. I think Cook mixed up her kippers with her slippers.’
I hand it back. ‘Thanks, but I’m too tired to eat.’
‘Thank Shorty – it was her idea. She’d have given it to you herself if she wasn’t translating something.’ Spencer tucks into the sandwich and picks something out of his teeth. He holds up a piece of orange string. ‘String sandwich. Unusual, but strangely tasty.’
‘What about me?’ says Merv.
Spencer shrugs. ‘What about you?’
‘My blood sugars are dangerously low.’
‘So you do eat!’ says Spencer. ‘I thought you were from that planet where aliens have no emotion and live purely on logic, like the guy with the pointy ears from Star Trek.’
Merv’s tummy rumbles loud enough to prove that he is human, and probably from Devon, after all.
‘You’re in luck,’ says Spencer. ‘I’ve got some Fortnum’s shortbread in my pocket. I’ve been keeping it for emergencies, but you can have it.’
‘Is it vacuum packed?’ says Merv.
Spencer pulls out a biscuit and picks off the fluff. ‘Not exactly.’
Merv groans. ‘Don’t you think I’ve been through enough?’
I creep into my dorm expecting the worst. But my clothes are where I left them. My hot-water bottle Boris is still on my pillow. Willow and Bumble are pretending to be asleep.
Bumble opens one eye and snaps it shut again. Once I’m in bed, I’m too tired to think about Garrick or Zippers or what Willow might do next. I snuggle up to my hot-water bottle, say goodnight to Mum and Bab and the real Boris, wherever they are, and seconds later, I’m dreaming about boats and lakes and dances of death.
12
The Fall of the White Swan
The next morning at breakfast, Willow is looking even more pleased with herself that usual. Probably because we’ve got Madame and we both know how that’s going to go. Why oh why did Ms Celia decide it would be a good idea to give me all the lead roles?
‘Don’t worry about Perkins,’ says Lottie. ‘Now the Captain’s said we’re being monitored continually, she wouldn’t dare try nuffink dodgy.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ I say. ‘I wonder if anyone saw her stealing my ballet shoes?’ My Swanphone glows. ‘Ooo, speaking of shoes, my new ones have arrived from Meekes.’
‘That was quick,’ says Spencer.
‘Topsy ordered them yesterday. I’ve got a blood blister where my little toe used to be.’
‘Do you mind, Kydd?’ Spencer prods his egg. ‘I’m trying to eat my scrambled brains.’
‘Sorry, Spencer.’ I pick up my bag. ‘See you both in class.’
I spot Heart Maker’s apprentice before he spots me. He’s ogling Dame Anna’s statue and smiles when he sees me. ‘Hello, miss. I need someone to sign for these boxes, if you don’t mind?’ The pad in his hand is shaking.
‘Are you all right? I ask.
Pip laughs. ‘I’m fine, just a bit shaken, that’s all. Had a tumble on the stairs at Meekes this morning. It’s been a bit of a week, what with Star Maker standing on a craft-knife, then Heart Maker almost electrocuting himself.’
‘Mr Stubbs? What happened?’
‘The kettle blew up. Don’t worry, miss, he had a narrow escape.’
Thank goodness. Now Bab’s gone, Mr Stubbs is my only link with Mum. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to him.
‘Hellooo!’ I jump as Topsy taps my shoulder. ‘Sorry about that. Been with the yoga teacher. Poor thing pulled her gluteous minimus doing the one-legged pigeon.’ She counts the boxes. ‘ . . . eleven, twelve, thirteen – eek – unlucky for some. What’s the matter, Pip? You’re not coming down with something, are you?’
‘Pip fell down the stairs at work,’ I say.
‘Oh, Pip. You poor thing,’ says Topsy. ‘Come on, let’s get you a cup of cocoa. Off you go to class now, Milly. I’ll take care of him.’
Her ‘there-there’s follow me all the way to Madame’s studio.
When I arrive at the studio door, everyone is following Ms Celia into the corridor. Lottie calls me over. ‘Sorry, Milly, Ms Celia’s teachin’ the corps de ballet while you’re wiv Madame.’
‘Hurry now, Milly, Madame does not like to be kept waiting,’ says Ms Celia.
I hold the studio door open for Miss Batty. ‘Thank you, M-Milly. T-time to face the m-music . . .’
Danny Debello, Willow and an older boy are already stretching at the barre. Willow raises her leg and touches her knee with her nose. I wish I was still that bendy.
Madame claps her hands. ‘So good of you to join us, Millicent. Today we will be rehearsing a pas de deux for ze Scarlet Slippers. Daniel has bravely agreed to partner you. As you can see, we have been joined by Willow and Dafydd also. In ze event zat one of you should get injured, zey will take your place.’
I feel my face redden. Willow’s dance partner is only Dafydd Wynn-Jones. Head boy and all-round superstar.
Madame smiles at everyone except me. ‘Now, who can tell me what makes ze perfect dance partnership?’
‘Height?’ says Willow.
‘Oui. Height is important.’
‘Respect,’ says Dafydd
Wynn-Jones.
‘Absolutely,’ I say, a little too loudly. Willow rolls her eyeballs.
‘And ze most important thing of all?’ asks Madame.
‘Trust, Madame,’ says Danny.
‘Well done, Daniel. Did you hear zat, Millicent? Trust. So, to begin, we will build trust between you and Daniel in a series of exercises. First, you will stand in fifth en face and allow Daniel to take your weight.’
My heart hiccups. Danny was one of the boys chasing me in the woods. It’s going to take more than an exercise to make me trust him.
‘Millicent, what are you waiting for?’
I take a breath as Danny holds me at the waist. Following Madame’s instructions, he tilts me forward, back and side-to-side.
After three more exercises, I begin to relax.
‘Bien, Daniel,’ says Madame. ‘Ze judges like to see lifts, so we shall give zem lifts. Zere are four in ze piece from Swan Lake I have chosen for you. However, we shall begin with something simple. A fish dive, perhaps?’
Lifts? I wipe my palms on my tights.
‘What parts are we playing?’ asks Danny.
‘Your role is Von Rothbart, ze evil sorcerer, and Millicent will play Odette, ze tragic white swan. You are ready, Daniel?’
‘Yes, Madame.’
‘Millicent, do not look so scared. You are in good hands. Begin in arabesque en pointe.’
Danny wraps one arm around my waist and the other around my leg. He begins to tilt me downwards.
‘Now bend your standing leg into a passé,’ says Madame. ‘Use your core to pull yourself into a line so your chin tilts towards ze floor.’
I tighten my stomach, but Danny’s grip loosens. I tense my back, but he lets me slide. I yelp as my chin thumps the floor.
For a moment, I can’t breathe. I taste blood on my tongue.
‘Non, non, non!’ shouts Madame. ‘If your core is weak, how can Daniel be expected to hold you?’
‘Sorry, Milly. Are you hurt?’ Danny holds out his hand to help me up, but his eyes aren’t sorry. His lips aren’t sorry.
‘Pah!’ says Madame. ‘Zere is nothing wrong with her zat a soupçon of talent wouldn’t cure. Zat will be all for today. In our next class we will rehearse your solo, Millicent. Let us hope you can dance ze Lilac Fairy as well as Willow.’
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