The Ondine Collection

by Ebony McKenna

  YOU MAY HAVE HEARD the expression “babe magnet”, which is a term applied to a handsome man who draws women – or babes – to him. Just as a regular magnet attracts paperclips and iron filings, seemingly without any effort. Magnetism is one of the elemental forces of nature at work, and is one of the easier aspects of science to understand. Shambles the ferret was no babe magnet, but he was a trouble magnet, with an uncanny knack for attracting and finding trouble. You could say his knack for attracting trouble was also an elemental force of nature.

  The moment he slipped away from Ondine’s shoulder that morning, he followed his nose to the smell of frying sausages from one of the fund-raising stalls along the railway platform. The onions he didn’t care for, but the sausages made his mouth water.[29]

  A plan formulated in his head – stay close to people near the barbecue and hot plates and sausages will drop from the sky.

  Soon, a suitable leg presented itself, with sturdy shoes and thick denim pants, making it easy for Shambles to get a grip. Before its owner could finish yelping, “What’s on my leg?” he’d dropped his sausage, bread, onions and mustard on the ground. Shambles jumped free and launched himself towards his prize, grabbed it in his teeth and disappeared behind the stall. And oh, it was bliss, eating a sausage that was half as long as his body.

  The hot fat dripped over his chin. Chunks of meat-ish mince slid down his throat and warmed his belly. In another few chomps, all that remained of the meal was a smear of grease on his black fur.

  A clever person, perhaps even a not-so-clever person, might feel satisfied with that score and leave well enough alone. Not Shambles. Filled with confidence at how well his first attempt had gone, he reasoned a second attempt would be even more successful.

  He didn’t have to wait long for another mark. This man had pants made from a thick canvas-type material (Shambles hadn’t studied fashion, so didn’t know silk from sawdust) and a satchel on his side that made an excellent hitching post for a ferret to dig his claws and fangs into. In a heartbeat Shambles raced up his leg, grabbed on to the bag and opened his mouth to catch the sausage.

  Then it all went horribly wrong.

  The satchel opened and a gun fell out. Helpless, Shambles watched the weapon drop to the ground. It discharged on impact. His world split apart with the loudest sound he’d ever heard. Everyone screamed. Shambles hit a nearby wall with a thud and kept falling, his arms scrabbling for something to hang on to on the way down. His claws caught in a thick material – the man’s pants – and he clung on hard, lurching back and forth with momentum as the man ran off. Nasty hot bile filled the back of his throat. His ears filled with screams. Then a whistle blew and heavy footsteps closed in. Several pairs of footsteps.

  From the corner of his eye, Shambles saw a policeman lunge towards them. He let go of the leg, fell hard on the pavement, and his world turned black.

  BACK AT THE PUB, THINGS were so busy in the dining room the piano stood silent. Cybelle worked in the kitchen beside Chef, while Ondine and Colette took orders and served food.

  “Ondi, take these meals to table twelve,” Cybelle said, before she rushed back to the stove to remove a tray of savoury tarts.

  Her arms loaded with food (two plates balanced on one arm, a third plate on the other), Ondine took her orders and walked to the designated table. That’s when she saw Lord Vincent sitting at the head of it. Not that she was going to drop the plates or anything, but the sight of him nearly made her miss a step. He looked ruffled and gorgeous; his sun-kissed, dark blond hair was all messed up but his brown eyes were clear and bright, and trained on her.

  Heat crept up Ondine’s neck at the thought of him checking her out.

  “It’s Ondine, isn’t it? That’s a beautiful name,” Vincent said, extending his hand in friendship.

  Something turned to liquid inside her.

  Being polite, Ondine served Vincent and his companions their meals, and then took his hand to give it a friendly shake. Her skin tingled at his warm touch. How long should they hold hands for? Would it be rude to pull away? Then he did something that made her insides go completely gooey. Eyes still locked with hers, Vincent turned her hand over and kissed the inside of her wrist.

  The touch of his tender lips against her skin was the most erotic thing Ondine had ever experienced.

  Heat shot up her arm, darted into her heart and pinged all around her body. Until this moment, she’d loved the feeling of just looking at him. Now he’d kissed her she felt something strange, wonderful and new lurch low in her belly.

  Ondine wasn’t really sure what it was, but she knew she liked it.

  Chapter Six

  A whole week later and no sign of Shambles. Not a skerrick. For a teenage girl with an overactive imagination, it was a complete disaster. Visions of Shambles lying dead in a city gutter filled Ondine’s mind. That’s if he was already dead. He might have been carried off by a hawk, his limbs ripped off while he yet lived, to be shoved down the hungry mouths of chicks. Or some revolting child might have found him and taken him home, where she’d be half strangling him to death with affection, then putting a bonnet on his head so that he matched the rest of her dollies! Ondine found herself thinking of Shambles far too much. Thinking how vulnerable and small he was. Other times she found herself wondering what he might look like as a proper man. If she could find a way to turn him human again, would she like the end result? Would he be as handsome as Lord Vincent?

  All the anxiety meant her appetite paid the price – she could barely eat for worry at breakfast. Then she became ravenous around lunchtime and found herself eating scraps off people’s returned plates.[30]

  It had also been a week of astonishing busyness and flat-out-edness. Business had never been so good, all because the Duke and his dishy son had come to their pub after the ballyhoo at the station.

  I’ll never wash my wrist again. Ondine cast her mind back to that lush kiss on her tender skin. How she’d blushed furiously in front of Vincent and his gang, and the way he’d looked at her with an unreadable but unquestionably exciting-and-a-little-bit-dangerous expression. That promise to protect her wrist vanished after she had to roll up her sleeves and get stuck into the washing-up.

  Laundry duty washed away another layer of skin, so really, all she had were memories.

  But oh, what lovely memories. His soft, warm lips brushing her skin, his walnut-brown eyes fixed on hers, her heart racing nineteen to the dozen. Even now, as she thought of him, her pulse increased. While folding sheets and tablecloths and pillowcases, Ondine kept seeing the lovely Lord Vincent’s smiling eyes. Finishing with the folding, she made sure no one was looking and dared to kiss herself in the same spot.

  What a let-down! No sensations at all, just the feeling that she must look like an idiot. Thank goodness nobody had seen her. Not even Shambles, to make her feel like a twit for entertaining such thoughts.

  And Lord Vincent hadn’t been back to their dining room all week, which was such a shame. Ondine felt sure that he’d be back in a day or two. Three at the most.

  A sudden cry of anguish echoed through the kitchen, which sounded suspiciously like Ma having a conniption.

  “I don’t believe it! They can’t write such things! How dare they publish this! Josef, get a lawyer, let’s sue them! This is all lies. Lies, lies, lies! Call themselves a newspaper? This is a rag. It’s not fit for the toilet!”

  “Ma, what’s wrong?” Ondine called out, as she hot-footed her way towards the centre of the family storm. When she reached the kitchen, she found everyone standing around the island bench, reading an article from the Weekend Hacienda Leisure Guide.

  Somebody had written a review of their hotel. And it wasn’t very nice. The food and wine critic, known by the pseudonym Dee Gustation, had gone to town on them.

  “But when was she here?” Cybelle asked. “I never saw anyone with a notebook in the dining room. Did you, Ondi?”

  “Nope, and everyone’s been really nice as well. Nobody�
��s even sent any food back, which is a good thing, right?” Ondine asked.

  “We haven’t seen anyone in the bar who might be a critic, have we, Thomas?” Marguerite added. Thomas shook his head.

  Thomas was crowding around the table along with the rest of the family, his paler brown hair contrasting sharply with the family of dark brunettes. Everyone kept talking, so Ondine bent her head at a funny angle (the page was upside down, so it took all her concentration) to read the article.

  Dangerous Dining Adventures

  A night at The Station Hotel is a true adventure in dining, where the faint-hearted need not apply.

  Let’s begin with our first brush with death – the table wine. Called such because its only true use should be for cleaning the tables at the end of the night.

  This is a hotel with a family atmosphere, which extends to the guests – in such a way that those in the dining room can easily become caught up in domestic disputes emanating from the kitchen.

  Despite this, the food – when it does eventually arrive – is edible. That is what little you can find under the sea of gravy.

  The beer is suitably cold, chilled from the frosty stares of the publican/overprotective father who has no issue with using his beautiful daughters for slave labour. In many museums, you can look but not touch – here, don’t even look at the daughters lest the father turns you into a block of ice with just one glance.

  Towards the end of the evening, the rousing music from a talented but frustrated concert pianist is a fitting way to end the night. The raucous clamour from the piano and singing elder sister distracts everyone from the noises made by patrons in gastric distress outside in the gutter.

  “OH, I CAN’T BEAR IT!” Ma said as she wiped tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Who could be so cruel to us?”

  “Someone who is jealous of our success,” Da said.

  From where Ondine stood, she figured her father’s guess was as good as anyone else’s.

  A sad quiet descended in the kitchen, which was pretty remarkable considering there were seven people all hunched around the table, reading the newspaper.

  “I’ll go to the paper’s office and find out who wrote this,” Marguerite said. “I’ll explain that they’re wrong. I’ll invite the reviewer back so she can write something positive about us.”

  “Or make up something worse!” Josef said.

  “Hey, look, Da,” Ondine said, trying to change the subject. “Here’s a story about the people who tried to shoot the Duke. They’ve written a fair bit . . . they’ve charged three men and . . . what does “diplomatic immunity” mean?”

  “It means they’ve got a good lawyer,” Josef said with a sniff of disgust.

  The telephone rang, making them all jump. For a moment nobody wanted to answer it, then Ma straightened her posture, brushed her hair back, and picked it up.

  “Station Hotel, good morning . . . Yes . . . I see . . . Yes, of course . . . No, no problem at all, thank you for calling and letting us know. Have a lovely day.”

  Ma put the receiver down on to the cradle and shuddered. “That was the van Nyuus booking, cancelling for tonight.[31] Cybelle, you’re better on the phone than me, can you take the rest of the calls? I’m going to lie down for a mo–”

  A streak of black fur barrelled into the kitchen, ran under the table and up Ondine’s leg.

  “Shambles! Oh, Shambles, my darling, you’re alive!” Ondine cried, scooping the bundle of bedraggled fluff into her arms and kissing the top of his messy head. Sparks of joy danced around her heart. He was back!

  “As much as I appreciate a kiss from a fair maiden, there’s no time for that,” Shambles said as he panted for breath. “Everyone get to work, the halth inspecta is coming!”

  Ma turned white and her chin wobbled in distress. “Can this day get any worse? Who cares if the health inspector comes? We’re done for anyway!”

  Josef, Chef, Thomas and Marguerite all turned to Ma, asking variants on the “what did you say?” theme. Because, of course, they hadn’t heard Shambles say anything. Only Cybelle remained looking at Ondine. The middle daughter instinctively knew, from her mother’s screeching reaction, that Shambles had come back with bad news.

  Ignoring them all, Ondine cuddled her returned friend. “Shambles, you stink. Where have you been? You must be starving. Here, have some sausages. Chef, can you grab some bones out of the stockpot?”

  Shambles found his voice. “It’s that ungrateful Duke’s family. This is all their doing. They’re hell-bent on running us out of town! And I’ll say yes to the meat too, I’m fair starven.”

  Confusion reigned at the table while Shambles virtually inhaled his snack. Ondine patted his back, feeling the corrugated ribs through matted fur.

  All eyes turned to Ma, waiting for an answer.

  She gave it to them, revealing Shambles’s true identity and communication skills.

  Da shook his head. “Now you’re saying he can talk? Then why can’t I hear him?”

  Confusion aplenty. Thanks to the newspaper review, they were already in a state of shock. It was only natural that the news that their ferret could talk and was in fact a real man would completely bowl them all over.

  YOU’LL UNDERSTAND A certain need for brevity at this stage, what with everything being so exciting – plus, you already know the whole story up to now, so you don’t need to hear it again. Let’s pick this up after the half hour of “whats?” and “hows?” to the point where people started to make sense again.

  CHEF SHOOK HIS HEAD and said, “Now I’ve heard everything.”

  Marguerite and Thomas gave each other surprised looks.

  Da’s jaw clamped shut and Ondine could tell, just from his expression, that his mind was already moving on to more important matters: white-hot indignation. “But we saved that miserable Duke’s life!” he spat.

  Cybelle chimed in, “What could he have against us? He came over here after the incident, bringing half of Venzelemma with him. He was having a great time, wasn’t he, Ondi?” Heat seared Ondine’s cheeks as she thought about what a great time she’d had, with Lord Vincent kissing her wrist. Her skin still tingled just thinking about it.

  “Right then, no time to waste. Let’s close the place ourselves and then there’s no reason to let the health inspector in,” Ma said, rising from the table and fetching the clutch of keys.

  “But we’ve got guests, and a full house tonight!” Da said, then corrected himself. “I mean, a nearly full house.”

  “We cancel everything, just for a week, and we’ll work like stink and get it all sparkling from floor to ceiling. Cancelling the bookings buys us some time and when we re-open, the inspector will be so dazzled by everything he won’t be able to find anything to fault. Margi, you and Thomas make up some signs for the front windows to say we’re closed for renovations. Belle, you and Chef put on a slap-up lunch for everyone who’s still here, as a way of saying thanks and goodbye, for the moment. Ondi, give Shambles a bath, he stinks, then both of you join your da in the bar. We’ll start at the front and work our way through the entire place.”

  “Colette, my love,” Da said, finally breaking his wife’s string of orders, “how are we to pay for this?”

  “We’ll find a way. Something will turn up.”

  As Shambles finished his third sausage, Ondine offered him some water, which he happily accepted. “I’m going to give you that bath, Shambles,” she said, and kissed the top of his head again. The acrid stench of dead things flew up her nose. “Pee-yew, you reek!”

  A rumbly laugh escaped Shambles. “Care to rub me back, lass?”

  From across the table, Ma gave the ferret a stern look. “Shambles, that’s not appropriate!”

  Shocked, Ondine looked at her mother, face aghast. Jupiter’s moons, Ma had good hearing! Then she saw her father’s icy cold glare – created not from hearing Shambles, but from guessing what he must have said. A smile formed at the corner of Ondine’s mouth. The newspaper art
icle was right in one respect: her dad could chill a whole room with a single glance.

  As much as she should feel angry because of her father’s mood swings, Ondine felt happy. Shambles was alive and in one (smelly) piece, and for that she was grateful. In a few hours, her father would be over the shock of the news and would return to normal. The best thing for Ondine to do was stay out of his way.

  “Thank ye for the food, and for yer concern. It’s nice to be missed. I missed ye too,” Shambles whispered as they left the kitchen. “And by the way, I noticed Cybelle and Chef were touching knees under the table.” The fresh information sent a bolt of shock through Ondine.

  “Belle and Chef? What?”

  “That sister of yers is a dark horse,” Shambles chuckled. Ondine’s mind went blank. Not that Belle couldn’t have a love interest, but that it would be with Chef. “I can’t get my head around it. But – but he’s nearly twice her age. Belle and Chef?”

  “Sure, and I’m older than ye, but yer about to get me fair nekked in a bath, eh lass?”

  Heat scorched Ondine’s neck and face again. Thank goodness nobody else was in earshot of the ferret. As much as she’d like to make verbal repartee with him, there was little time for mucking about. Ondine knew they’d be needed for renovations, whatever that entailed, so it was straight up to the bathroom for both of them.

  Upon reaching the basin, Shambles came over all shy. “Ah, I’ll take it from here if ye don’t mind.”

  “Don’t be silly, you won’t even be able to turn on the taps,” Ondine said.

  Shambles looked at his options. “Right then. Well. Close yer eyes.”