The Ondine Collection

by Ebony McKenna

  “I am fine.”

  “No, you’re not.” They stared at each other, the tension in Ondine’s chest growing by the second.

  With a deep sigh, Old Col said, “I’m cross because there’s so much to do. Hamish hasn’t been getting any better and the dance is in two weeks!”

  “Come and talk to me when you’re out of denial.” All the aggravation did Ondine no good, so she left Old Col to stew in her bad mood and followed the music back to the dining room. They’d pushed the tables and chairs into the corners to create a dance floor in the middle of the room, and the radio was on. Ma danced with Da, Cybelle danced with Chef and Margi danced with Thomas. Hamish was sitting it out, but he had a huge smile as he clapped along to the beat.

  “Lassie, would ye do me the honour of this dance?” The power of seeing him in that formal suit turned her emotions to mush.

  Nestled close in his arms, she saw sprigs of silver through his hair. More of those silvery strands grew along his temples. When he smiled at her, his eyes crinkled and twinkled, but then when he stopped smiling, the crinkles stayed exactly where they were.

  Her heart flailed at the sight of his weary face. He’d be sleeping as s ferret again tonight.

  THE DAY MA RE-OPENED the pub doors, everyone in Venzelemma wanted a table. They’d ask, “Is this the Margibelle Restaurant?” and her mother would beam and say, “It sure is!”

  Lord Vincent, curse him, publicly said their pub was one of his favourite places to visit. The demographics in the dining room changed to a much younger, more demanding crowd. Customers didn’t order as much, preferring an entree as their main. Then they’d stay in their seats when they were done, listening to Margibelle perform.

  Ma carried a set of empty plates into the kitchen and turned to Ondine. “Can you head out to table three and get their dessert orders for me?”

  Taking a peek at the table – a group of teens perhaps a year older than her – Ondine doubted she’d have any luck. “How much do you want to bet they get an ice cream on the way home instead.”

  “Recommend the crème brûlée. Nobody can resist that.”

  “We’re out of crème brûlée,” Henrik the chef said from down the end of the kitchen.

  “We have lemon tarts, we can burn the top of them,” Cybelle called back.

  Ma took a breath and pushed the menus into Ondine’s hands. “Improvise.”

  As luck would have it, right at that moment Lord Vincent, Ruslana, Melody and an older man came walking in to the restaurant. Ma dashed past Ondine in a blur and quickly cleared a table for them.

  Ondine approached the table she’d been assigned, doing her best to ignore her nemesis in the room.

  One of the diners on her table said, “He’ll make a great duke.”

  “Hello,” Ondine interrupted brightly. “Would you like something for dessert or do you want the bill?” The unspoken part being, “so you can clear off.”

  They all said variations of “Oh yes, dessert,” as they looked towards Vincent and decided to stay.

  “What takes the longest to make?” One of them asked.

  “The lemon-lime sorbet. We make it from scratch.” Ondine said. Not a lie. They had made it from scratch. Four days ago. The diner should have asked, ‘which dessert takes the longest to bring out to the customers?’

  “Sorbets all round then.”

  Taking the menus back, Ondine headed to the kitchen to find everyone in their regular blur of activity. Hamish, bless his peach-coloured cummerbund, stepped in to the kitchen, having just returned from another rehearsal.

  “Excellent,” Ma said as she clapped eyes on him, “you can look after Vincent’s table. He’s just arrived for second dinner.”

  “Aye,” he gave her a tap-to-the-head salute and peeked around the doorway into the dining room. “Who’s that lummox with them?”

  Being unable to look away from her beloved, Ondine only had eyes for Hamish. And the thick bands of silver hair at his temples that were not there this morning.

  “Hush now,” Ma said, “He’s Ruslana’s father, and with any luck, one of our new patrons. Whatever they order is on the house, by the way.”

  “Sorbets for table three,” Cybelle dinged the service bell from the other end of the kitchen.

  Ondine grinned as she settled each fluted bowl on her serving tray and made her way out to the table. The customers barely noticed her as she set their desserts down. Too busy gawping at Vincent. “I took the liberty of bringing out the bill at the same time,” she said.

  No response.

  Fine then.

  Back in the kitchen, she sought out Hamish. “How are you feeling?”

  “Not well. I found even more grey this afternoon.”

  She examined his temples, streaked with salt and pepper. “I can see that.”

  “I wasnae talking about me head.”

  Heat roared up her neck and she snarfled behind one hand. If she made too much noise, Ma would want to know why. [326]

  “It was on me chest, lass. Where d’ye think I meant?”

  She playfully swatted him on the arm. “Come on, let’s see if table three has paid the bill.” She lead him towards the wall partition, where they could look out onto the dining room without the diners feeling as if they were being monitored.

  “For someone about to get married, she doesnae look so happy,” Hamish said.

  Ruslana sat there, all slumped of shoulders and pouted of lips. “And you say she only wants a salad?”

  “Aye, and nothing to drink.”

  If Ondine could see the woman’s dour expression from this far away, so must everyone else in the restaurant. “If she keeps cracking the sads, it will be bad for business,” Ondine said. The moment her mother walked past, she pounced. “Ma, they’re as miserable as a wet cardigan out there. I think Hamish should take them a complimentary bottle of plütz.”

  “A whole bottle? Best check with Da.”

  “Don’t pick on Ruslana,” Margi said as she joined the spying. “If it wasn’t for her, Belle and I wouldn’t be going to PopEuroTube.”

  “I helped,” Ondine blurted, then wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

  “Yes, your cheering in the audience made all the difference,” Margi said with a roll of her eyes.

  Hamish said, “You’d think they were planning a funeral, not a wedding.”

  “You’re jumping at shadows.” Margi took another peek at the table. “Is that your friend with her back to us?”

  “That’s Melody,” Ondine said. “She’s allowed to be miserable, because she’s carrying a torch for Vincent.”

  “She likes the sauce,” Margi said, indicating with a tilt of her head.

  Oh dear, should Melody be having alcohol? Ondine thought they were the same age, which meant her friend shouldn’t be touching the stuff for a couple of years yet.

  “Any danger of the two of you getting any work done?” Ma asked as she stuck her head around the corner.

  Ondine had never felt more hopeless. Melody was their insider in Vincent’s camp, but she hadn’t fed them anything useful for ages. “I’m not sitting by while Vincent swoops in and undoes all my hard work. I mean, our hard work.”

  “There’s a fraudulent slip if ever I heard one,” Hamish said. [327]

  “We need Melody on our side. I’m going to get her.” Ondine strolled out to the dining room, her pulse krump-dancing behind her ribs.

  Melody sat semi-slumped in her chair, enveloped by glum-fog. Ondine opted for her brightest tone. “How are your meals tonight? Is everything to your liking?”

  “Beautiful. Delicious,” Babak said. The man ate like a farm harvester, ploughing through the food in a solid line across his plate.

  Vincent’s knife and fork were resting on the side of his plate as he chatted to Ruslana. “It’s as good as I remembered,” he said, giving Ondine a smile that in an earlier season could have melted her heart.

  Her insides shrivelled but she kept her smile steady. “I’
ll pass that on to the chef. Can I get you anything else? Desserts? More plütz?”

  “Yes, more plütz.” That was Babak. “Tell me, where do you get your supply? It’s so hard to find in Norange.”

  “I’ll send Da over, he’s our resident expert on the best places to buy just about anything. Uh, Melody?” turning to her friend and placing a kind hand on her shoulder. Melody jumped, as if she’d been in a trance. Or perhaps she’d been busy making spells all this time? That would explain her distraction. But not the lack of eating. Using magic was supposed to make a witch ravenous, yet her friend had barely touched her meal. “Is everything all right?”

  “Oh yes, it’s fine. You gave me a really large serve, that’s all.”

  “Are you sure?” Leaning in closer, “He is looking after you, isn’t he?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Perhaps you should lie down,” Vincent interjected. “This is a hotel, there’s bound to be a spare room where you can rest.”

  “She can stay.” Ruslana placed her hand on Melody’s wrist, clearly meaning to keep her at the table.

  “I don’t want to cause any trouble,” Melody said. She wasn’t as twig-like and waifish as she had been with Mrs Howser, but there was no light in her eyes.

  “No trouble at all, come and have a rest in our private lounge,” Ondine said. Then they could be alone and have a good talk.

  Vincent said, “It’s absolutely fine with me. Take a break.”

  Chin puckering with emotion, Melody nodded and rose from her seat. All eyes fell upon them as Ondine lead her friend through the kitchen and out to the private lounge . “Have a slouch on the couch here and I’ll build up the fire.”

  “I’m not cold,” Melody said.

  OK then. “I was going to ask if everything is all right, but I can see it’s not.” Ondine moved in for a hug and her friend’s arms wrapped around her with the gusto of an orang-utan.

  Eventually Melody pulled away. “Who’s the psychic one now?”

  Ondine shook her head. “I thought it would be like old times. A bit of spying here and there, feeding Anathea information and then somehow everything would fall into place and we’d save Brugel again.”

  Melody gave Ondine a strange look, crinkling her forehead into horizontal lines. “Save Brugel? From what?”

  “From Vincent, obviously.”

  “But he’s the best thing to ever happen to Brugel.”

  Something screeched in Ondine’s brain. “No he’s not. How can you say that?”

  Silence stretched between them.

  “Because it’s true! Everyone loves him.” Melody’s eyes brightened. “He’ll give Brugel stability.”

  Wait, what? “But he’s awful. And he’s done so many horrible things to my family –”

  “Like make sure your sisters got a shot at fame and riches in PopEuroTube? Yeah, I can see how badly that’s working out for you.”

  Ouch! “I don’t mean that.” This was going off the rails superfast. “I mean all the things before. He’s a power hungry . . . I don’t know what. But he’ll do whatever it takes and use whoever he needs to use to get there. We have to stop him. For the good of Brugel!”

  Shaking her head, Melody said, “He would have been duke if Anathea hadn’t interfered.”

  Ondine rocked back in shock. “She did not interfere! It always should have been hers except Pavla came along.”

  “And we’re lucky he did!” Melody dragged her sleeve across her tear-stained face. “I can’t believe you’re trying to drive a wedge between Vincent and me!”

  “Melody, please, why can’t you see reason?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing! Now get out of my way. The Duke of Brugel needs me.” Melody lifted her head and walked serenely to the dining room.

  “That went about as bad as can be expected,” Hamish said from the doorway.

  Anger and frustration burned Ondine’s heart. Nothing would change her mind about Vincent being bad for Brugel. But how in heaven’s name could she make Melody see that?

  “Ondi?” Margi showed her divine head around the corner and then she stepped closer. “What did Melody mean?”

  Panic turned her brain numb. “What bit?” How much had she heard?

  “The bit about making sure we had a shot at PopEuroTube?”

  All of it then. Ma appeared. So did Old Col.

  “What is going on?” Cybelle asked.

  How many more people were going to crowd in here? Ondine blew her fringe in frustration. Tiredness seeped through her bones and she let go of the horrible secret that had tied her stomach in knots. “I helped Vincent that night at BrugelMelody. And in return, he made sure you went to PopEuroTube.”

  Silence chilled the air by several degrees.

  Cybelle tilted her head. “Wow, you really do think it’s all about you.”

  That was not the response she was expecting. She’d just bared Her Terrible Secret and they’d thrown it back in her face. “I’m not trying to take credit. He really did promise me he’d help you if I helped him.”

  “Aye, he put her right in it.” Of course Hamish came to Ondine’s defence. He was a champion like that. “Anyone else would have told him to sod off. Yer lucky to have a sister who cares so much about you.”

  Cybelle’s hands curled into fists on her hips. “A sister who’s so jealous she’ll tell lies to make herself important.”

  “That’s not what happened ye numpty eejit!” Hamish had never used bad words against any member of her family. Except perhaps for Old Col. “I was right there. And Vincent tightened the screws. Ye should be thanking Ondi fer helpin’.”

  Margi put her hand on Cybelle’s arm to guide her away, but Cybelle shrugged her off. “You can’t stand it that you’re not in the spotlight! Don’t you dare come to PopEuroTube, Ondine. I don’t want you there. I don’t want you pretending it has anything to do with you. This is our moment and you’re not going to ruin it!”

  They stormed off in high dudgeon. Hamish came over and gave Ondine a gentle hug.

  “I’m an idiot,” she said, her body crumpling into his. “I thought I was helping. I really did. It’s only made things worse. My sisters hate me.”

  “And the country’s charging headlong into Vincent’s grip.”

  “Yeah, that too,” she admitted. Up close, this late in the evening, Hamish’s hair was more grey than black. His eyes that used to sparkle with mischief had a cloudy lining inside the lens. Cataracts? But only old people got them. As much as she wanted - needed - more hugs from her dearest love, she stepped out of the embrace. “You’d better get your sleep.” The unspoken part being ‘as a ferret’.

  With everything falling apart around Ondine, she couldn’t bear it if she lost Hamish.

  ​

  ​

  Chapter Eleven

  ​

  The day of PopEuroTube and the Abnormal Formal dawned. Ondine stretched as she woke, all languid and soft, and sleepy and at peace with the world. Then she woke up and reality flooded her with all its recent disappointments.

  Her sisters had left for Craviç the week before so they could attend rehearsals and media events. Today, Ma, Da, Thomas and Henrik were heading off to Craviç in a rented campervan. This was the first time Ondine could remember her parents ever taking a holiday. It left Old Col, Hamish and Ondine in by themselves in Venzelemma.

  In their private room behind the kitchen, the television was on, with the crew from Good Morning Brugel chatting about events. It was one of those shows people left turned on in case something interesting came up, a noisemaker in the background to fill the silence. Ondine’s ears pricked at the sound of a familiar voice.

  There on the screen was Lord Vincent, adding to the saturation coverage of PopEuroTube promotion.

  “The grand final will be so exciting. I encourage everyone in Venzelemma to come to Savo Plaza, it will be a huge party. We’ll have a giant television screen to watch the whole event.”

  “Can
I ask a question without notice My Lord? Will there be something extra special announced?” The co-host asked with a cheeky smile.

  For a question ‘without notice’ it sounded awfully well rehearsed to Ondine.

  Vincent positively beamed down the camera. “There’s no sneaking anything past you Cristina. Yes, we will be doing a live cross from Savo Plaza to announce Brugel’s voting results!”

  A heavy sigh deflated Ondine. With most of her family away, she could have had all sorts of shenanigans with Hamish today, if only she didn’t have the bone-deep certainty that Vincent would be staging a coup d’état tonight.

  Old Col’s hand fell sharply on Ondine’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about him. Let’s move tables and chairs out the way so Hamish and I can dance.”

  Mouth dropping open in shock, Hamish said, “Won’t that make us too tired for the real thing?”

  “Nonsense. It will keep us in peak condition.”

  Shaking his head, Hamish said, “It’s a deb ball, Col, not The World Cup.” [328]

  Throwing her hands in the air, Col yelled, “I knew it! I knew you’d ruin it! Why did I let you talk me into being my partner when I knew you didn’t have your heart in it?”

  ​“Steady.” Ondine placed her palm on her great-auntie’s upper arm. It wasn’t Hamish that had done the convincing anyway, it was Old Col’s idea.

  “Don’t touch me!” Col shrieked.

  Ondine gulped. She’d never seen her great-auntie like this before. They’d been through some pretty stressful situations in the past but she’d never been so tightly wound up. “Calm down Old Col.”

  “Old Col. Old! That’s all I am to you, an old woman, an inconvenience, someone to be humoured while the rest of you have a wonderful life and forget about me!”

  “Cummoan.” Hamish crossed his arms over his chest. “Ondi’s always been good to you and you’re sponduletising.” [329]