Tidings of Great Boys

by Shelley Adina

  “I’m not going to tell you. That way, when the agents interrogate you all, you can tell them the truth. Quick, now!”

  Carly ducked into Gillian’s and Shani’s room and I took Shani’s hand. “This is the tricky part. We have to get into the unused wing on the other side of the grand staircase without being spotted.”

  “We need to get out of these dresses, then.”

  “No time. Come on.”

  The presentation balcony, where the laird once gave his state-of-the-earldom speech to his tenants, stretched from one side of the entry hall to the other, on the second floor. People milled about down below, and as I scoped out our chances of making a run for it, the door opened and a new guest slipped inside.

  Several new guests. Dressed in evening clothes and carrying cameras much too big to fit in the pocket of a tux or in a jeweled bag.

  “Oh, no,” Shani breathed. “Reporters.” She backed away from the wide oak banister and pressed up against the wall. “What do we do now?”

  I tamped down the rage that built in the back of my throat. “They’re not allowed at a family party. I shall lodge a complaint with—”

  “Mac!”

  Should I go down and throw them out? If I did, I’d lose the scant minutes’ advantage we had. And from the noise level rising in the ballroom, even that was running out fast.

  “What are you lot doing here?” Alasdair’s voice cut through the buzz of talk.

  “We’re with the movie people,” someone said smoothly. “Still photographers for The Middle Window. I understand we were all invited. Sorry to be late.”

  Lies! Standing right behind him was the woman reporter who’d asked me such obnoxious questions. Only now she wasn’t wearing her camel coat.

  “You must think we’re thick as planks,” Alasdair retorted. “You were here this afternoon.”

  The group erupted in accusations and excuses, flashes went off, and I seized my moment—as well as Shani’s arm. Together we dashed across the balcony, pressed as close to the wall as we could, and pushed through the oak door on the other side that led to the unused wing. I whirled and closed it, wishing it had a bolt or at least a lock—something solid between us and the mounting threats downstairs.

  “I’m going to have bruises on my arms the size of walnuts, Miss Bony Fingers.” Shani panted along behind me, her Lanvin dress whipping round her ankles.

  “Let’s hope that’s all you have. My poor dress is going to be ruined.”

  “Take it off.”

  I glanced at her over my shoulder. “You keep saying that.”

  “Serious. What have you got under it? A crinoline thing, right? That’s expendable. And you’ve got that big old plaid on top. Just wrap it around you sarong style and you’ll be completely covered.”

  “That will only matter if they find us.” We cleared the old presentation room and a formal morning room. “Which they won’t. Here.”

  A dash up a musty staircase brought us to the armory and beyond it the games room, complete with bowling alley. That was my goal. I skidded to a stop and sneezed violently. If there was this much dust here, what would it be like in the passageway? “Fine. You win. Help me get this off.”

  Shani unzipped me and I wriggled out of the cream silk, which was looking a little the worse for wear round the hem, thanks to my brief minutes outside in the snow. Still, no point completely destroying it.

  “Here, like this.” She wound the earasaid round my torso, South Seas style, and pinned it in place with my brooch. “That crinny has got to go, Mac.”

  “You’re right.”

  I stepped out of it, leaving me in a plain slip, stockings, and dancing slippers. At least I could run in those, if I had to. I gathered up dress and petticoat and flung open the trunk that rested under a display of eighteenth-century pistols. Rolling the dress into a ball, and wrapping the petticoat round it to keep the dust away, I stuffed it in the trunk.

  “Now, let’s get you hidden as well.”

  “How are you going to do that? Dress me in a suit of armor?”

  “You’ve been watching too many movies.” We ran into the games room and down to the end of the bowling alley. “There’s a false back on this wall, behind where the pins were.”

  I pushed on a panel, and it clicked and swung outward. “In you go. Crawl all the way to the end and you’ll come to a door.”

  “Crawl? Aw man, Madame Lanvin is never gonna forgive me for doing this to her dress.”

  “Madame died in the forties, and her ghost will never know. Pull it between your legs and stick it through the sash.”

  Graceful we were not. But now was not the time to quibble about that. I’d discovered this passage one rainy afternoon when I was eight and bored out of my mind. I’d tripped on an ancient wooden bowling pin lying on the floor, and had fallen against the panel in just the right way to pop it open. Dust filled my nose again as I carefully pulled it back into place so that no light showed round its edges. Then I felt my way down the passage, crawling after Shani.

  “Please tell me there’s a light switch somewhere,” I heard her say up ahead. “I’m not big on small, dark places.”

  “Don’t go to pieces on me now,” I warned. My hand came down on her foot, and her body jerked but she didn’t scream. “Sorry. Only me. There should be a door up here. Can you feel it?”

  Patting sounds in the dark. “We can’t go any further. I guess that means the door. Wait, here’s the handle.”

  She pushed it open and we found ourselves at the top of a narrow stone stair. “Down you go. This takes us down the outside wall, back the way we came.”

  “It’s dark down there.”

  “I’ll go first.”

  The bottom of the stair opened into a stone passage. There was just enough space to turn sideways and inch along crab fashion. “Double walls,” I whispered. “This is the old part of the house.”

  “Great.” Light filtered in from above. “Please tell me the spiders have been dead for five centuries.”

  “Oh, yes. Besides, it’s too cold for them.”

  “They’re not the only ones. What is that smell?”

  “Dead bugs?”

  “No, the other smell.”

  “Age, I suppose.” Goose bumps broke out on my arms, and my teeth began to chatter. “Old stones, moss, damp, you n-name it.”

  “We’re g-going to freeze to death and be trapped in these walls, aren’t we?” Our hands touched as we sidestepped past curtains of spiderwebs and dry, curly lichen that somehow found a way to grow in here.

  “Oh, man,” I mimicked her tone from a moment ago. “Did someone tell you about the ghost?”

  She grabbed my fingers. “Mac, I swear, if you say one word about a ghost I’m going to completely lose it.”

  I laughed and bumped her gently. Maybe those stories would be better left for a night when we were safely tucked up in bed, and all this was behind us. “We’re nearly there. See?” A dark hole loomed to my right as I pulled in my stomach to avoid a protruding stone.

  “Nearly where?”

  “This will bring us out behind the sitting room where we have tea.”

  “What do you mean, behind it?”

  “There’s a grate behind one of the bookshelves. The shelf swings out. We’ll leave that way when everyone is gone.”

  Two minutes later, Shani gave a gusty sigh of relief and rubbed her arms briskly. “At least it’s warm,” she whispered. “But this doesn’t buy us a thing. Look at all the people. How are we going to get out?”

  I grabbed her arm in the semi-dark. “Wait. It’s Dad. And the Yasiri agents.”

  And a lot of other people besides, including the rest of my friends, Lissa’s parents, and Mummy. Peering out from behind a wire grate and a set of leather-bound hunting circulars from the turn of the last century, we had ringside seats for the show.

  “Are you satisfied, then?” Dad demanded of the agents. “I’ve showed you around and it’s clear the girl is not here.
”

  “With your permission, Your Lordship, we would like to search the house.”

  “Search… ?” Dad looked about to choke. “I’ve told you that her room is empty and she must have decided to leave.”

  “In the middle of a party?”

  “We haven’t actually seen her all evening,” Patricia said smoothly. “She could simply be homesick. She’s certainly capable of calling a cab on her own.”

  “Carly must have gotten to them,” I whispered to Shani. “They’re covering for you like they know what they’re doing.”

  “Your Lordship, we apologize most humbly,” the agent said. “But to fulfill our duty to His Highness, we must be able to tell him we searched the house.”

  Dad’s jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth. “Very well. You have my permission. But I do this under protest, which I will register with your embassy, and if one item of my guests’ property is damaged or disturbed, you will answer for it personally.”

  Both agents bowed. “Agreed.”

  “Mac.” Shani sounded as choked up as Dad.

  “What?”

  “I’m going to sneeze.”

  “Don’t you d—”

  “Mmmph!” Shani held her breath and clapped her hands over her mouth and nose.

  One of the agents turned and looked at Gillian, who was standing not far from us. “Yes?”

  “I—I, um—” She glanced at Dad. “Sir, I think someone should go with them.”

  “Right. Yes, of course. I will. Meg, please see to our guests. I can’t think where Lindsay has got to.”

  “I saw her with Alasdair earlier.” Oh, thanks a lot, Lissa. Way to out me in front of my parents.

  “Alasdair?” Mummy looked interested. Way too interested. “Really?”

  “Meg. Our guests?”

  “Yes, of course, darling. Everyone, let’s go back to the ballroom and have a little supper, shall we? It’s nearly ten o’clock.”

  The crowd filtered slowly out of the room, and I heard three sets of men’s feet slapping on the marble of the grand staircase as Dad led the agents upstairs to begin their search. Gillian lingered near the piano. The dividing partition between the sitting room and the music room had been pulled back so people could entertain themselves if they wanted to.

  Or—my contingency plan—listen to Gillian entertain them if the DJ hadn’t responded to bribery and shown up.

  Gillian leaned over the keys. With one finger, she plinked out four notes: Here comes the bride.

  chapter 20

  I GLANCED SIDELONG at Shani. “That was close. She knows we’re here.”

  “Is it safe to come out?” she breathed back, her mouth close to my ear.

  I shook my head. “Not till you hear the chopper leave. Maybe not even then.”

  “If we get her attention, do you think she could bring us some food? I’m starving.”

  “Shani, you just missed being interrogated by the Yasiri Secret Service! How can you think about your stomach?”

  “It keeps me from remembering I have to pee.”

  Must not laugh. I pulled in a breath. “Someone’s coming.”

  The sitting-room door swung open wider, and Carly slipped in on a wave of conversational buzz from outside. “Any news?”

  “They’re doing a room-by-room search,” Gillian told her. “I don’t feel right about this.”

  “About what? Keeping our friend from being arrested?”

  “Who says she’s going to be arrested? The Sheikh just wants to talk to her. It’s not honest to say she isn’t here when—”

  “Shhh! I don’t know about you, but letting the Men in Black take her away in a helicopter doesn’t exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy. There must be laws against it. If the Sheikh wants to talk to her, let him do it at the embassy in London. With parents there and stuff. Like a civilized person.”

  “Whose parents?” Shani whispered. “Not mine.”

  “Mine, probably,” I whispered back. “They’re responsible for you while you’re here. Did you see my dad’s face? He’s angry enough to actually go to London and give the Sheikh a few strong words.”

  The door opened again and I turned my head to see who it was. Lissa? Alasdair?

  “Oh, hello,” Carrie said. Lily and Gordon stepped into the room behind her. “We didn’t think anyone was here.” Gordon slipped the pack of smokes back into the pocket of his rumpled dinner jacket, as if he’d seriously given thought to lighting up in my house.

  Breathe. What would you have done, leaped through the bookcase to rip it out of his mouth?

  Yes. Yes, I would have.

  Gillian sat at the piano as if that had been her aim all along, and began to ripple out something complicated. A Schubert sonata.

  “So.” Gordon raised his voice over the music. “What do you think of all the goings-on? Pretty exciting, yeah?”

  “That’s not what I’d call it,” Carly replied.

  “Oh, right. It’s your friend they’re after. Seen Mac?”

  “No.”

  “I know where she is,” Lily said smugly. “She hates stuffy parties like this. She’s probably out back in the garage. You can smoke there, Gordon.”

  “Why would Mac be in the garage?” The sonata stopped in mid-phrase and Gillian got up, her dress whispering with irritation as she strode over to stand next to Carly. “This is her party. And frankly, I’m surprised to see you here, Carrie. Since you’re pretty much responsible for all this ‘excitement,’ as you call it.”

  Carrie shrugged, but the little smile curling her mouth told me she was quite chuffed that her posting that clip had resulted in helicopters and Secret Service agents and a story she could live off for years. It probably trumped anything I’d ever done, and that was the biggest score of all.

  “You’re just sorry you didn’t think of it,” Carrie said. “You’ll never be famous on YouTube, will you?”

  “I’m already on YouTube.” Gillian’s tone was crushing. “Dozens of places. I’ve been performing on the piano since I was little. And that’s not even counting the clips from E! News at the premiere, or the ones from Fashion Week in New York. It’s not that big a deal.”

  Again I thought of the difference in the stage Carrie played on and the one my friends and I played on. Score one for you, Gillian.

  “Besides,” Carly said, “we would never post something about a friend just to make ourselves look good.”

  “Your little unprincess wasn’t my friend. And Mac sent that to me for fun. You should be preaching at her, Christian girl, not me. She’s the one who started this, if you want to get right down to it.”

  “Nothing like pushing off the blame,” Gillian said as if she were commenting on a bad movie. “I know, let’s see how many friends we’ll lose if we never own up to anything!”

  “Oh, sorry,” Carly deadpanned. “I stopped playing that game when I was five.”

  Carrie tried a withering smile, but didn’t quite pull it off.

  “So is it true the Hanna girl has ditched you all?” Gordon wanted to know. “Gone? Shoved off?”

  “That’s none of your business,” Gillian snapped.

  “Because if she didn’t, you, like, lied to government agents.”

  “I bet they did lie.” Lily’s eyes filled with hunger for yet more scandal. “But I bet they wouldn’t stand up to those guys in a one-on-one interrogation. You know, like on Prison Break.”

  Gordon swung an arm toward the door in invitation. “You go find Mac and that Shani girl. We’ll make sure these ones don’t escape. I’d love to see Mac have to back down and admit she lied in front of everyone.”

  How had I ever been friends with that big galoot? I’d had about enough of their idiocy. One more word and I was tripping the latch on this bookcase and giving those eejits a piece of my—

  Shani’s fingers closed on my wrist and squeezed. Don’t lose it.

  Right. Carly and Gillian, of all people, were quite capable of taking care of themselves.


  “Touch me and you’ll regret it,” Gillian told Gordon pleasantly.

  “What, have you got a black belt or something, Christian girl? What happened to turning the other cheek?”

  “Nice racial profiling,” Carly noted. “Have you ever had a single thought that wasn’t a cliché?”

  Gordon didn’t know which insult to respond to first. As a result, he just gaped and sputtered. Carrie rolled her eyes. “Come on, you lot. This is a bore. I’m out of here.”

  “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” Gillian told her.

  Carrie reversed direction abruptly and got up in Gillian’s face. “Don’t take that tone wi’ me. We all know Mac is dead bored with all yer Bible thumping and more-Hollywood-than-thou nonsense. She knows who she can trust.”

  Gillian smiled into Carrie’s angry eyes. “I believe it.”

  “I didn’t mean you.”

  “Neither did I.”

  Carrie rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Are you talking about God? That’s a laugh. Mac never paid two cents’ worth of attention to that fairy tale, and you’re deluding yersel’ if ye think she’s any better than we are. In fact, compared wi’ her, we’re a bunch of angels.”

  Wasn’t it nice to know what my old friends really thought of me?

  “She’s arrogant and selfish and we only put up with her because she’s got the dosh to have a guid time.” Carrie took a deep breath. “In fact, you’re welcome to her, Christian girl. She can ignore you and stab you in the back and kick you to the curb and you can see how it feels. And then you can come back and tell me who you trust.”

  “Are you done?” Gillian asked. “Because if you are, Carly and I are going to go get some supper.”

  Carrie flung her hands in the air and Gillian didn’t even flinch. “Fine. You’re welcome to her. I hope I never see Lady Lindsay MacPhail again.”

  “I’d say chances of that are pretty good,” Carly said to Gillian as my ex-friends practically trampled themselves in their hurry to get out the door with the last word.

  “Uh-huh,” Gillian agreed. “Hey, girlfriend. Check out the bookcase. I could use a really good book on hunting.”