“I’m checking for Oose. They breed under beds and frighten folk.”[41]
Ahead of her mother’s question, Ondine shrugged. “I have no idea what he’s on about.”
“You knew what I was going to ask? I told you, you’re psychic,” Colette said.
A muscle twitched in Ondine’s jaw. “Ma, please. Drop it, OK?”
“We’re done here,” Marguerite interrupted. Apart from the soft red in her cheeks, she still looked neat. You’d never know she’d been doing so much work. “We’d better get downstairs before the doors open, or we’ll be overrun.”
“Thank you, Margi, that’s very smart of you,” Ondine said with deliberate emphasis. Then she looked at her mother. “Or maybe Margi’s the psychic one?”
“You’ll keep,” Ma said.
They made it down the stairs just in time to see Thomas open the door to half a dozen thirsty people, who made straight for the bar and ordered drinks. In a couple of seconds Da had his hands full of beer steins and the till started ringing with sales. Cybelle walked into the bar carrying a plate of savoury morsels, offering them around.
“You’re not giving food away, are you?” Ma whispered to her middle child.
“They’re samples, Ma, as a re-opening special. It’s Chef’s idea. Isn’t he clever? He has some really good ideas to update the menu and –”
“Right, I’ll have a good talk to Chef.”
From her position in the doorway Ondine watched the exchange, and her heart ached for her middle sister. If she were older, she could walk into the bar and offer her moral support. Being only fifteen, she didn’t dare set foot in it, just in case someone dobbed her in to the Duke or Mrs Klegg. Instead, she waited until she caught Cybelle’s attention and gave her the thumbs-up, because that was all she could do for now.
Cybelle shot her back a confused look.
So much for being psychic.
The lunch crowd kept them busy all afternoon. The kitchen roared back into life with a host of new and delightful smells, courtesy of Chef’s additions. Lunchtime grew into late afternoon and another of Chef’s ideas – afternoon tea – brought in more people for scones, jam and cream, with tea or coffee. This time, Ma beamed at Chef’s innovation, because it created a profitable time of the day where previously none had existed. And scones are scones the world over, so nobody needed free samples.
As Ondine served the guests, Cybelle took to the piano and Marguerite joined her. From out the back, Shambles raced through the dining room and scurried up on top of the piano to join in. Ondine held her breath, waiting for calamity, but this time nobody screamed. The girls laughed as the animal wailed and carried on, holding his little ferrety paws over his chest as he squeaked his heart out.
It had been an excellent idea renaming the pub The Duke and Ferret. If anyone saw Shambles, they’d know he was the hotel mascot and not a rat.
Above the melody, Ondine heard the chink and clunk of coins piling into the tips jar on top of the piano. A beaming smile cracked her face.
This is brilliant!
“Shy little thing, isn’t he?” Ma joked, then she too started singing on her way back to the kitchen, her arms full of dirty plates.
“He just wants to get out of work,” Ondine said. With a sigh she bade the piano farewell and made for the pile of dirty plates by the sink. She pushed her sleeves up and plunged her arms into the hot, soapy water.
Late afternoon rolled into early evening. Ondine sat in the private room behind the kitchen with Shambles, Cybelle and Chef. They were eating from a platter of food Chef had brought out for them, resting and recharging before the evening crowd arrived. As far as Ondine was concerned, Shambles had done the least real work out of the lot of them, but that didn’t stop him eating his bodyweight in cold meats and cheeses.
“Born and bred salad dodger, aren’t you, Shambles?” Chef said.
“I used to love potatoes and fresh fruit, but I cannae handle it no more,” Shambles confessed, talking with his mouth full.[42]
“You probably used to love table manners too,” Ondine said.
Ignoring them, Cybelle made a large “O” with her mouth so she could properly reapply her eyeliner.
Through the sound of munching and slurping water, Ondine heard her mother’s voice rise an octave in delight, all the way from the dining room.
“Sounds like someone’s turned up for Margi’s engagement party tomorrow,” Cybelle said, as they heard their mother’s voice grow louder on approach.
Wait, what? Margi’s engagement party was tomorrow? How had Ondine missed that?
“It’s lovely to see you again. Come through. Oh, you must see the girls, they’ve grown so much,” Ma said as she walked towards them.
There in the doorway stood their great-auntie Col.
Food dropped from Shambles’s mouth. “It’s the witch! It’s really her this time!” he shrieked.
Nobody said anything for what felt like ages, but in reality was probably only five seconds, as the elderly but sprightly woman creased her eyes and scrutinised Shambles.
A tiny bit of sick burnt the back of Ondine’s throat, such was her shock and surprise. Old Col was here, the Witchy Woman who’d turned Hamish the lad into the animal he was today. Ondine swallowed hard and stared up at her elderly relative, her heart beating faster in anticipation of what might come.
“Hamish McPhee, you haven’t changed a bit,” her great-aunt Col said.
“Aye, ye cursed me good, so ye did.”
“Not one of my better ones, but it seems to have stuck.”
“Aye. Come here and give me a kiss.” Shambles held his furry arms wide for a hug.
A cold spike of jealousy stabbed Ondine’s heart. What if Auntie Col returned Shambles to his Hamish-ness, and he up and left them?
Another cold spike, this time of fear. What if it was even worse? What if Auntie Col returned Shambles to his Hamish-ness, and he was ugly?
Don’t be so superficial.
But once the thought took hold, she couldn’t unthink it.
Chapter Nine
They’d been talking for more than two hours, Shambles and Old Col, but Ondine had no idea what they were discussing. Every time she returned from the dining room with empty plates, she looked in on the private room behind the kitchen. There they were, Shambles jittering about on the table and Old Col nodding her head from time to time. They spoke in hushed tones, their backs to the doorway so Ondine couldn’t even read their expressions.
The old lady and the ferret. What could they be talking about?
“No slacking off, go take table twelve’s dessert order,” Ma said. “Leave Hamish and Aunt Col alone. When they’re ready to talk to you, they’ll let you know.”
A spark raced up Ondine’s spine. Her mother had called him Hamish instead of Shambles. Would that mean her great-aunt had decided to release the enchantment so he could become human again? Yet again Ondine wondered whether Hamish might be as handsome as he sounded. Or at the very least, as handsome as Lord Vincent.
I shouldn’t compare them, but I can’t help it.
IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE FOR Hamish to sit still. Being a human with ferret qualities (although by now perhaps it was the other way around) he did his best to listen quietly and “sit nice” as his mother used to say.[43]
It was a losing battle. The mixture of excitement and fear coursing through his body had him trembling from nose to tail-tip.
“Ye understand how completely sorry I am,” he started, knowing it barely touched the sides of the cavernously bad feeling existing between them.
“You offended me mightily, you know that,” Aunt Col said, and from the look on her face – as wrinkly and “of a certain age” as it was – she’d kept hold of her pain for many, many years.
“Aye, I know, and I am deeply sorry. And at first I was angry with ye for doin’ it, but I’ve come to understand why ye did it. Ye’ve taught me a lesson, one I’ll nawt likely forget,” Hamish said, taking a deep breath (for
a ferret anyway) and trying to move the conversation forwards. “I didn’t realise yer debutante ball was so important to ye. But I know I ruined it for ye, and I’m very sorry. If you change me back, I’ll partner ye again and we’ll get it right this time.”
They both sat there for a moment, as Hamish looked at Old Col, and she looked back at him. All the while Hamish’s tiny Shambles-heart whirred like a drum roll.
“Eh, lass? Now that we’re older and wiser, is there any chance ye can forgive me?”
The papery skin on Old Col’s face made a concertina on her cheeks as she smiled. “You’re half right. I’m certainly much older, and I do believe I am somewhat wiser. You did hurt me, Hamish, for many reasons – but you’re right, it was a long time ago, and holding a grudge is so terribly ageing.”
Hamish held his breath, waiting for the next bit.
“I forgive you,” Old Col said, her eyes sparkling behind their stubby lashes. In those few words, Hamish felt his spirits soar.
Then just as quickly they crashed as he surveyed his furry body. “But, I’m still a ferret!”
“So you are. Which means it must be up to you now. Perhaps you like being a ferret because it means you are excused from life’s obligations.”
“So you’re saying I’m still a ferret because . . . because I like it?”
The grin she gave him sent a heavy, sinking feeling into the pit of his stomach. “That must be it. Weasel your way out of that one!”
THE MINUTES DRAGGED like hours, until towards the end of the evening, Ondine finally heard her great-aunt Col summon her to sit beside them at their table. The wrinkles on her face and her gnarled, arthritic fingers may have given the woman an appearance of age, but her mind still cracked as fast as a whip.
“Ondine, come here, child. Hamish has something he wishes to say to you,” Aunt Col said, motioning to the ferret, who sat near the edge of the table with his head bowed.
“Aye, lass, I do. But before I go on, I want to tell ye how much I appreciate everything ye’ve done for me. Ye’ve taken me in and provided for me. I couldnae asked for more.”
Fear gripped Ondine’s heart and gave a good squeeze. His words sounded so ominous. Her hands wobbled, so she clasped them together to hold them still.
“Aunt Col has lifted the spell, but I think I’ve been a ferret so long I’ve forgotten what I used to be. She says it’s up to me now, but I’m nawt sure I know how to be me again. Ye’ve shown me what it means to be part of a family, to work together and make a real go of it.”
Ondine pleaded with Aunt Col. “Change him back!”
“I already have. He’s responsible for his life now.”
“But you were the one that turned him into a ferret in the first place,” Ondine protested.
“That’s true, but spells only work on willing recipients. I did call him a weasel for being so horrible to me and ruining my big night, but he must have believed it to make the spell work.”
“So why isn’t he changing back then?”
A sad little voice piped up, “Because ah’m nawt worthy of ye.”
Ondine noted the drawl in his accent, proving just how deeply embarrassed he must be feeling.
“Don’t be silly. Of course you’re worthy. You’re helping out around the pub and you prevented the Duke’s assassination, for goodness’ sake. They’re pretty worthy things in my book.”
The little ferret gave a sigh and said, “Yeah, I guess so.” But he didn’t sound convinced.
A tear trickled down Ondine’s cheek at the thought of Hamish living the rest of his life trapped in that little body.
“Ach, dry yer eyes,” Shambles said, his accent thick with remorse. “Ah know ye were looken forward to me being human again, but ye’ll have to wait a bit until I get mah heed right.”[44]
Now who’s the psychic one?
LATER THAT NIGHT, WHEN all was quiet, Shambles sneaked into Ondine’s room. In automatic response to seeing the ferret near her bed, Ondine patted the pillow and made room for him.
“Nay, lass, I just came to bid you goodnight. Now get yer sleep. I’m for the laundry.”
Heaviness tugged Ondine’s heart. As if she were missing him already. “You don’t have to sleep down there, Shambles. Ma knows you’re here anyway.”
“All the more reason to stay in the laundry. It’s nawt appropriate for me to be in yer room. I’ve taken advantage of yer . . . hospitality . . . enough.”
Ondine heard the emphasis on the word and chose to ignore it. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out because her mind had gone blank. Not completely blank, obviously, otherwise her vital functions like breathing would stop. But the thinking part of her brain shut down. Possibly because all she could do was imagine how lonely she’d be without him snuggled in beside her. For a while Ondine sat there in her bed, while Shambles stood there in the middle of the floor, neither saying anything for what felt like the longest time.
Finally, Shambles sighed. “I think yer great-auntie’s right. I have to behave like a man. I think mebbe if I go with her we might be able to find some spells that might help.”
He was leaving? How would that help anyone?
“Sham– no, Hamish?” Ondine cleared her throat. “You’re the only one here who doesn’t treat me like a child. Please don’t start now.”
“Yer nawt a child, that’s for sure.” The ferret shook his furry head. “You’re the smartest one here. And that’s why I have tae go. I’ll only drag ye down if I remain.”
Nothing he said made any sense. “You’ll at least stay for Margi’s party tomorrow night, won’t you?” Ondine tried to sound reasonable, while in her heart she felt very close to begging. Only she wouldn’t beg, and she wouldn’t whine, because that would betray how mature she was trying to appear.
“One last party, eh? Well, OK, if it means that much to ye.”
Ondine’s shoulders sagged in relief. She hadn’t realised how tense she’d become during the course of their conversation, but now she sighed out loud with the reprieve. Maybe she could convince Aunt Col and Shambles to stay with them? After all, they had room for plenty more under their roof.
Shambles made for the door, but stopped before he left.
“Is there something else?” Ondine asked.
“Yeah, there is. Yer ma told me about Lord Vincent. She said he was making puppy eyes at you in the dining room the other day.”
“Thanks, Ma.” Ondine flushed at the memory.
Shambles shrugged. “Big families are short on privacy.”
“What about Lord Vincent?” she asked, as a fresh wave of tingling spread across her wrist at the memory of his kiss.
“You’re a smart one. I think you already know.”
“And if I wasn’t smart? If I was only a child. What would you tell me?”
“I’d tell ye to stay away from him, because he reminds me too much of me.”
With that, Shambles walked out of her room, leaving Ondine with a sinking, empty feeling inside.
THAT NIGHT, AS ONDINE slept, she tried to dream of Lord Vincent, but her subconscious wouldn’t let her. Instead, Melody, her friend from Psychic Summercamp, appeared. Pang! Ondine had meant to keep in touch with her friend, but things had become so busy she hadn’t found the time. In the dream, they were sitting in a field of flowers, at dusk on a balmy summer’s evening. Fireflies danced around them. It was a lovely, calm scene, and Shambles appeared (eating a sausage, of course, because any time Ondine thought of Shambles it was associated with eating). It all felt so peaceful, Ondine wanted the dream to last for ages.
“Mrs Howser wants to see you,” Melody said. Her friend’s words brought a change of scene. It became dark and a cold draught played around her legs, yet a bright spotlight shone on her. Shambles stopped eating and cried out in pain, clutching his belly.
“We’re coming,” Melody said.
“Aw naw! I’m dying,” Shambles said.
Ondine sprang awake, dripping with perspiration while
her heart thundered behind her ribs, threatening to burst free.
“I’m not psychic, it was just a dream,” she said to the empty room.
So why couldn’t she convince herself?
NOT SLEEPING PROPERLY made Ondine grumpy. When Melody and Mrs Howser arrived in the dining room late the next afternoon, her heart sank and she became even grumpier. Not because she didn’t like them, but the fact that they were here in person meant perhaps the rest of last night’s dream might come true as well. The bit that didn’t end well for Shambles. Still, she hugged Melody hello.
“Hey, Ondi, it’s good to see you! Did you get my message in your dream?” Melody beamed. “I’ve cracked astral projection at last. Mrs Howser’s been so helpful. Is Shambles still here?”
“Th-that was you?” Cold dread snaked through her system.
“Yes! I’m still not sure how much came through. I used a new technique, but I was in your dream last night, wasn’t I? I can tell because you’ve gone pale. Oh dear, I didn’t go overboard, did I?” Melody blurted.
Ondine wanted to be sick.
“Aren’t you going to show us to a table?” Mrs Howser asked as she hitched a multitude of coloured shawls over her shoulders. High summer, but the woman acted like she had a chill. “You can tell us how you’re getting along with Shambles. I’ve actually missed him.”
Remembering her manners just in time (and taking a deep breath so she could rein in her nausea), Ondine invited them to take a seat, then dashed to the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a pot of steaming tea.
“We’re flat out, to tell the truth. We have a pretty full dining room tonight, and it’s Margi’s engagement party to Thomas as well, out in the garden. Hi, Thomas,” she added, as the topic of conversation walked in, bringing a decanter of wine to the patrons on a nearby table.
“I know it’s your sister’s engagement party,” Mrs Howser said with a haughty tone. “Your mother invited us, in exchange for me graciously waiving the remainder of your tuition fees. Even though I was under no obligation, due to you leaving in somewhat hurried circumstances.”
The Ondine Collection Page 8