The noise of an engine rumbles through the trees. A flash of silver glints through the branches and the largest coach I’ve ever seen rolls up the driveway. Painted on the side under a swooshing shooting star is Van Twinkle’s Stars of Tomorrow. Dozens of small noses squish against the windows.
Ms Celia and Madame wait in the porch as the bus pulls up in front of the steps. First to get off is a man in a white suit and a large, white cowboy hat. He’s as round as one of the Captain’s exercise balls.
He holds out his arms and darts up the steps. ‘Blanche! May I say, you’re as a bewitching now as you were the day we met.’ He kisses Madame’s hand like she’s the queen. ‘Uh, you too, Celia, honey.’
‘I wish I could say the same about you, Dick,’ says Ms Celia.
‘Nice place you have here, girls.’ He hooks his thumbs in the belt hidden under his tummy. ‘No sign of Ivan?’
‘Mr Korolev will be joining us later.’
‘We’ll show him, eh, ladies? Still can’t figure how he managed to worm his way back into the competition.’
Dick Van Twinkle gestures at the children stepping off the bus. ‘So, here are my babies. Ain’t they something?’ His voice cracks. ‘They make me so proud.’
Two by two, the children approach the steps and curtsy to Madame.
Lottie shakes her head. ‘You’d fink they’d arrived at Buckin’am flamin’ Palace.’
‘This is so priddy!’ says one. ‘What a cute little pond. And are those real?’ She points at the swans.
Ms Celia tuts.
The last two children are like a pair of beautiful black swans. They have the same black skin, long necks and determined faces.
‘Ladies, my brightest students,’ says Dick Van Twinkle. ‘Only one word to describe ’em. The Stars of Tomorrow.’
‘That’s four words, Dick,’ says Ms Celia.
I whisper to Lottie, ‘How can I compete with the Stars of Tomorrow?’
Dick Van Twinkle puts his arms around them. ‘Sorry, ladies. These two are gonna dance right out of here with the trophy.’ Then he pulls a silk handkerchief from his pocket and dabs his eyes. ‘Only one word to describe their talent. Outta This World.’
Ms Celia sighs.
‘Please, monsieur,’ says Madame. ‘Come inside.’
Topsy appears behind Madame. ‘HELLOOO, Mr Van Twinkle. This way, please-thank-you. AND YOU, TWINKLETS!’
‘Geez Louise!’ says Dick Van Twinkle. ‘Who is this?’
‘This is Emmeline,’ says Ms Celia. ‘She’ll look after you while you’re here. You’ve had a long journey. I’m sure a wash and brush up are in order. When you’re ready, I’ll show you the practice studios.’
Topsy pops something around Dick Van Twinkle’s neck.
‘What was that, Captain?’ asks Lottie.
‘A special visitor’s pass,’ says the Captain. ‘It’s tagged, so we know what our guests are getting up to. In extreme circumstances it also self-destructs, but I don’t think we need to worry about that right now.’
‘Mummy said to tell you she’s your biggest fan!’ says Topsy to Dick Van Twinkle.
She turns fuchsia again when he kisses her hand. ‘In that case, lead the way, Emmie. I’ll say this for you Brits – you sure know talent when you see it.’
‘Dick,’ adds Ms Celia. ‘Please be aware, this is an old building. For your own safety, avoid the areas that are off limits to visitors.’
‘Hey, we like “old”, don’t we kids? “Old” is what you Brits do best.’
‘Dick. That wasn’t a request.’
Dick Van Twinkle tips his hat. ‘Like I said, Celia. You ain’t changed a bit.’
22
The Scarlet Supper
Topsy leads the Americans away and I watch the welcoming party scatter. Lottie is still peering out over the lawn. ‘When is Korolev goin’ to get here, Captain?’
The Captain closes the window. ‘Crump is monitoring the coach. It should be here in time for the Scarlet Supper tonight.’
‘So, what do we do until then?’
‘Keep your eyes open. If any of the Americans get lost, direct them back to their rooms. But go easy. They have no idea what’s going on here and we don’t want anyone ending up in the infirmary, got it?’
‘Got it.’
‘Good lass, off you go. Kydd, you’re coming with us.’
Madge Little peeks out of the shoe cupboard as we go past. Her small pink fingers flutter over her lips. ‘Oh dear, is there a problem with the visitor passes?’
‘What was that, Madge?’
‘The passes, Captain.’
‘Don’t worry, Madge. They haven’t self-destructed yet.’
‘In that case, I’m going for a nap before supper. That flying tutu’s giving me sleepless nights.’
‘Did she just say flying tutu?’ I ask, but the Captain doesn’t seem to be listening.
‘Sorry, what was that, pet?’
If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was away with the bliddy fairies.
The Captain comes to an abrupt stop outside the gym. ‘In you go – Ms Celia’s asked me to give you a final brief.’
The door clicks behind us. All of the targets and dummies are gone. The Captain perches on the edge of a balance beam. He shifts his weight and the beam groans.
‘You’ve studied Kristina Kovalchuk’s file?’
‘Yes. I’ve been swotting up on her for ages.’
‘Good. Tonight at supper, watch her closely. If she doesn’t give you a signal to abort, you’ll meet with her after your performance tomorrow.’
‘Where should I go?’
‘I’m coming to that. As soon as you’ve finished dancing, go straight to Madame’s study. At midnight, Kristina will join you. She’ll then reveal your mother’s location. She’s insisted that you remove your Swanphone before the meeting, so remember to give it to Madame before the performance. Any questions?’
‘You mentioned a signal?’
‘A signal? Oh aye. If Kristina has to pull out, she’ll blow her nose. Right, I’ve got a posh dinner to get ready for. Tying a bow tie with these fingers might take us all night.’ He takes my shoulders. ‘Do exactly as I’ve said and you’ll be all right. Do you understand, pet? Exactly as I’ve said.’
As I leave the gym, the Captain’s sigh rumbles in my ears.
Lottie is waiting for me outside the dorm. She’s already changed into the uniform Madge has made especially for the Scarlet Supper; a soft white dress and pale-blue wrap cardigan.
‘Quick, Milly, open the door before I turn into an ice lolly. Don’t know why we have to wear flamin’ uniform tonight.’
‘At least it’s not as itchy as the horrible brown jumpers in St Tild—’
My words are lost in a loud whirr. Lottie’s hair flies up and her skirt flaps against her legs. Light floods the courtyard in a swirl of snowflakes. The noise gets louder and I clamp my hands over my ears. I look up to see a big, black shape sweep towards the roof of the octagon.
‘What’s that?’
Lottie shouts a reply, but I can’t hear a word. She pushes me inside the dorm and shuts out the noise. ‘I said it’s the judges! Dame Anna and Olga Popova. They’re here! Milly – it’s happenin’. Tomorrow you’re goin’ to find your mum!’
By the time I’ve changed, the Popovs’ helicopter has landed. As we cross the courtyard, snowflakes settle on Lottie’s black hair. She slows under the arch and takes my arm. I’m trembling, but not because of the cold. ‘What if Kristina doesn’t show up? The Casovans aren’t even here yet.’
‘Yes they are,’ grunts a figure in the shadows. ‘I’ve just overseen a two-hour bus search.’
‘Merv! I’ve been worried about you.’ Merv’s monobrow is iced with snow.
‘Why’ve you been worried about Merv?’ says Lottie.
‘I’ll explain later. You searched their bus?’
‘It activated the alarms when it went past the gate house, but it was only the driver. He had ni
ne metal fillings.’
‘I hate the flamin’ dentist,’ says Lottie with a shudder.
Merv jerks to a stop like a supermarket trolley with a dodgy wheel.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.
‘I told you the first day of term; I don’t do refectories.’
‘But Merv, you can’t miss the Scarlet Supper. Come on, you can sit with us.’
Merv stomps around for a bit and has a little argument with himself. ‘No, yes, no, yes, nooo-kaaay.’
‘Does he have to?’ says Lottie.
I squeeze Lottie’s arm as we enter the refectory. It’s exactly how I imagined the Capulets’ grand ballroom. The tables are laid with red velvet tablecloths and decorated with holly and ivy. The crystal chandeliers make everything look sparkly and exciting. Even Merv.
All the teachers are gathered at a long top table. At the centre sits Ms Celia. On her left are the Captain and Madge Little. On her right are Madame, Dame Anna and a woman with a long neck and longer nose. She looks down it at the Scarlet Slipper sculpture. Olga Popova. It’s weird to think she’s Filipp’s mum. At either end of the table is an empty chair.
Lottie nudges my arm. In the middle of the table glistens a Scarlet Slipper, carved in ice.
We find our table. Next to each napkin is a name card written in Topsy’s handwriting. Lottie flashes one of them under my nose. Kristina Kovalchuk.
Merv finds Spencer’s card and drops it on the table behind us. He plonks himself in Spencer’s seat, picks up a bread roll and inspects it for germs. I sink into my chair and wonder if Kristina will be watching me as closely as I’ll be watching her.
Lottie picks up a roll too. ‘Reminds me of my cousin’s weddin’,’ she says, showing Merv the gap in her teeth.
Merv’s eyebrow twitches. ‘You had a fight? At a wedding?’
‘What do you take me for?’ says Lottie. ‘The cake was worse than Cook’s and I lost my tooth in the icin’. Got to get it sorted in the Christmas holidays but I hate the flamin’ dentist.’ She bangs the roll on the table and all the glasses clink. ‘I wish everyone would get a move on. I want to get a look at Korolev.’
‘Korolev’s not here,’ says Merv. ‘Wasn’t on the bus. No one knows where he is.’
Before Merv can explain, a fanfare sounds.
‘Shame – it’s only Van Twinkletoes,’ says Lottie.
Dick Van Twinkle twirls between the tables. He’s wearing a silver three-piece suit with matching silver cowboy boots. Twirling behind him, in red, white and blue, are the Stars of Tomorrow. It’s like a Fourth of July parade.
Dick joins the teachers at the top table. The Stars of Tomorrow mill between us looking for their names.
‘Hi, y’all,’ says a girl with the most perfect teeth I’ve ever seen. ‘I’m Bonnie Rae Bridges and this is my friend, Kimmy. Looks like we’ll be joining your table tonight. It’s a pleasure to meet y’all.’
Kimmy has the second most perfect teeth I’ve ever seen.
‘Bread roll, Bonnie?’ says Lottie.
Bonnie’s teeth are saved by a noise outside. The doors crash open and everyone cranes their necks.
‘It’s Korolev’s lot!’ says Lottie. ‘I’m goin’ to get a closer look.’ She dives under the table.
Korolev’s students swoop through the doors like moths. The boys wear swooshy black capes. The girls wear swooshy red skirts. Their waistcoats are embroidered in gold.
I recognize some of them from Kristina’s file. The boy with the scar (hobbies: pickpocketing and parkour). The girl with the fox-red hair (poker and ping-pong). Behind them all is a girl with ruby lips and roving eyes.
Kristina the Knife, my new best friend.
Kristina and the boy with the scar head our way. Kristina’s thick yellow plaits are piled on top of her head. She reads each of the name cards and takes the seat opposite me.
‘You are Milly?’ she says in perfect English. I breathe out. She definitely doesn’t look like a ‘crim’. ‘Who’s your friend?’
‘Oh, this is Merv.’
Merv produces a straw from his satchel and takes a slurp of water.
Kristina wrinkles her nose and turns to the boy. Got to keep the conversation going . . . ‘I love your hair, Kristina.’
‘Thank you. I like yours also.’
‘Do you? Thanks.’ This is a good start. Lottie says my hair has grown a bit, but not necessarily in the right direction.
Kristina stops smiling. ‘I was being sarcastic, hlúpe.’
Did Kristina just call me stupid? I try to think of an extremely intelligent reply, but it comes out as ‘duh’.
Bonnie Rae Bridges puts down her butter knife. ‘It sure is nice to meet you, Miss . . . ?
‘Kristina,’ snarls Kristina.
‘You know, Krissie, honey – if we make friends at this here competition, it won’t matter who takes home the little ol’ Scarlet Slipper cos we’ll all be winners.’
Bonnie smiles and I nudge her bread roll off the table. It would be a shame if she lost one of her perfect teeth.
Kristina reaches for her knife and Merv whimpers, ‘Bad start. Very. Bad. Start.’
She starts talking to the boy in Casovan. ‘We are going to win the Scarlet Slipper without even trying.’
The boy rubs his scar. ‘I hope you’re right, Kristina. It’s time Ivan got his precious trophy. Perhaps then he’ll stop being so hard on us.’
‘We’ve got Vilppu to blame for that.’
‘Vilppu was a joke.’ The boy scowls as Lottie’s head pops up from under the table. She crawls up her chair leg and brushes herself down.
We communicate by eyebrow. Have you seen Korolev? ask mine.
He’s not here, say hers.
Are you sure? say mine.
Definitely, say hers.
But Lottie is wrong.
The door flies open.
The room draws breath.
Kristina drops her knife.
It quivers in the table.
But not as much as me. Standing in the doorway is the man who turned my world upside down. Back to front. Inside out. He sweeps his cape around his shoulders and shakes his bluebottle-black head.
Ivan, our friend, has gone. Korolev, our enemy, sighs.
‘How disappointing,’ he says in a voice soaked in poison. ‘I see you’ve started the party vithout me.’
23
The Wicked Fairy
The name Korolev bounces off the polished glass and twinkling chandeliers. It passes from table to table in an excited whisper. It smacks Merv in the face.
Kristina Kovalchuk laughs without smiling. ‘If you thought he vasn’t coming, you don’t know Ivan Korolev. He vouldn’t miss this for the vorld!’
’Reminds me of Carabosse, the bad fairy in Sleepin’ Beauty,’ whispers Lottie.
’How did he get in?’ says Merv in a very small voice. ‘How did he get in?’
I nod at the top table. ‘Looks like the Captain’s asking himself the same question.’
The Captain is gripping the tablecloth like he’s about to perform a magic trick. I think I hear his teeth gnashing together. Madame’s smile is frozen to her face. Next to her, Dame Anna’s lips are pressed together in a line of even blanket stitch.
Ms Celia rises from her chair. Her forehead gives nothing away. ‘You are late, Mr Korolev.’
‘Ivan, please, Celia.’ Korolev takes his seat next to Dame Anna. ‘Don’t look so afraid, old woman. I promise not to bite.’
I don’t notice the year sevens bringing out the first course until the soup bowls are plonked on the table.
They don’t splosh.
‘Cook says she hopes you enjoy tonight’s menu,’ announces our waitress, without taking her eyes off Korolev. ‘She says to tell you she’s made a selection of British classics for your de-lec-tation.’
‘Oh my,’ says Bonnie. ‘I’ve heard so much about your British food . . . fish ’n’ chips . . . Yorkshire pudding . . . chicken tikka masala . . .’
; Kristina and Lottie are eyeball wrestling across the table. Lottie blinks first and starts eating her soup with a knife and fork. ‘Old British custom,’ she says to a bewildered Kimmy.
‘What’s in it? No, don’t tell me,’ says Merv.
‘Jellied eel, ain’t it,’ says Lottie happily. ‘Never had it in a soup before but it ain’t bad once you get used to it.’
I can’t stop staring at Korolev. His presence fills the room like fire. Get too close and poor Dame Anna will get burnt.
The main course arrives. According to our year seven waitress, it’s steak and kidney pie.
‘These are . . . interestin’,’ says Bonnie. She holds up a wrinkly black blob on her fork. ‘What are they?’
‘Offal,’ says Merv.
‘They ain’t that bad,’ says Lottie.
On the top table, Korolev eats like a wolf. He pours Filipp’s mother some wine. She waits for Korolev to take a sip before picking up her glass.
While Lottie’s eating, I listen to Kristina and the boy talking in Casovan. If I didn’t know Kristina was on our side, it would be difficult to tell which one of them is the most demented.
‘If I was a student here, I would drown the cook in the lake like a kitten,’ says the boy.
Kristina replies, ‘I would throw a knife through her stupid blue hairnet.’
‘Ha!’ says the boy. ‘Right between the eyes. This is why you and I get along so well, Kristina. We understand each other.’
Just as well Lottie doesn’t speak Casovan.
Our waitress bangs down the pudding. ‘Cook’s special, “Swan” Mess.’
‘Can I go now?’ says Merv.
Merv and I haven’t touched our food, and neither has Kristina. She picks up her napkin. It hovers near her nose and I try not to stare. Please, please don’t blow.
She snarls at me and drops her napkin on the floor. You’ve got to give it to her; Kristina really is an excellent actress. No one would ever suspect she wanted to help us. I give her a little thumbs up when no one’s looking.
Cook wheels out the cake. The ooos are followed by urghs. Lottie snorts meringue on Kimmy. Cook goes for a lie-down.
Kristina absent-mindedly plays with her knife.
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