‘No, I haven’t!’
‘Feeling more hungry than usual? Lately I have appetite of ravenous beast!’
‘Of course I’m hungry, but that’s because the meals here are so small!’ Ondine had eaten very well in her family’s hotel. Not three-course meals every night (there wasn’t time), but a healthy range of fruit and vegetables and plenty of protein.
‘Now you see reason for worming day. I tell you secret.’ Draguta stepped closer so that none of the other laundry workers overheard them.
‘Duchess in charge of catering budget. Think we eat too much. Must be riddled with worms. Every six months on dot, worm day comes and every single person in palechia must to take medicine.’
‘Has anyone ever actually had worms?’
‘The dogs . . .’ Draguta trailed off as a visitor came into the laundry. A number of other people also turned to check out the new arrival.
Despite her roiling stomach, sunshine spread through Ondine’s veins at the sight of the gorgeous man walking in. It was exactly the medicine she needed to cure her bout of malaise.
‘Hello, Hamish,’ she said.
A few people looked at Ondine and then back at Hamish. They said nothing, but Ondine could tell they were all dying to know who this strapping young man was. He looked effortlessly handsome, with a lock of dark hair flopping across his forehead. His clothes looked new, judging by the sharp creases down the front of his navy trousers and the starched shirt.
‘Col thought ye might need an extra pair of hands tae help out, on account of it being worm day and all,’ he said, smiling at Ondine.
Good Old Col. She thought how very lax her great aunt had been at the whole chaperone caper. She made a mental note to thank her, next time they had a pow-wow.
‘All help appreciated,’ Draguta said as Hamish walked towards them. ‘Here, fold sheets.’
‘Aye, ma’am,’ Hamish said.
Pyotr the seneschal came in with his satchel full of medicine in one hand and a clipboard and pen in the other. ‘Good afternoon, everyone. If I could have your attention,’ he said.
Ondine shot her hand up. ‘I’ve been dosed already. In school this morning.’
‘Ah, yes, Ondine. I have you marked down.’ Then he looked up and saw Hamish. He frowned. ‘Hamish, you haven’t been dosed yet. I’ll just add you in here.’ Pyotr wrote something on his paper. ‘Good, now if I can get everyone to line up, please, you can step on the scales one at a time.’
Ondine watched as everyone stopped what they were doing and obeyed the seneschal. When it was Hamish’s turn to step on the scales, Pyotr wrote down his weight, then gave him a single spoonful of worming medicine. The face Hamish made caused a new roiling in Ondine’s tummy and she quickly excused herself. When she came back, Pyotr was finishing up. Even the used spoons went into a bag.
‘Fun time over, everyone back in work.’ Draguta mopped her brow. ‘On worming day, all sheets must dry in sunshine. Gardeners put up lines. Here, take baskets out and hang up.’79
It took all Ondine and Hamish’s efforts to heft one basket out of the door. They walked through the courtyard (which hardly got any sun, as it was on the north side of the palechia) and along the gravel paths towards the south lawn. In the skies above them, shafts of sunlight streaked through the tiny gaps between the clouds. Clouds that looked dark and a bit ominous. Ondine silently hoped the rain would hold off long enough for the sheets to dry.
Turning the corner, they saw a sea of white sheets flapping in the breeze. It had a sort of modern-art-installation aesthetic and Ondine found herself smiling. In between the flapping sheets, they could see workers’ heads and arms moving, hanging up yet more sheets.
Further down the lawn, Ondine saw other workers hammering in temporary poles and stringing lines between them. Ondine and Hamish carried the basket down to the new line and launched the sheets over them. It was hard work, yet Ondine felt strangely calm and ever so domestic. The scent of freshly mown grass mingled with the lemony fragrance of washing. They both reached for the same pillowcase and Hamish’s hands wrapped around Ondine’s.
‘Ye look so pretty with the sun in yer hair.’ He curled a loose tendril around his finger and Ondine felt herself all overcome. When he brushed her cheek with his thumb, she couldn’t stop the grin.
The snap and flap of sheets filled her ears. Hamish leant closer. Her eyelids fluttered shut as he pressed his lips to hers. Ondine dropped the wet towel and held his face in her hands. The gentle rasp of his cheeks on her palms made her pull back in shock.
‘What’s wrong, lass?’
Relief flooded through her. ‘Sorry, I thought for a moment there you were changing back.’
Hamish rubbed his cheek and smiled. ‘Aye. I’ll havetae shave.’
Heat raced up Ondine’s neck. Shaving? That made Hamish seem so much older in her eyes. She leant forward for another kiss and felt stubble against her chin. A giggle escaped – she’d get pash-rash for sure.
Another lovely kiss made Ondine’s heart kick behind her ribs and her breath started to quaver into little puffs and pants. She could never get enough of those melting kisses. They lost all track of time, standing together between the fluttering white sheets, Hamish trailing kisses all the way down her neck and collarbone. It felt so wonderful and a little bit naughty into the bargain.
‘Aw nae!’ Hamish pulled back and grabbed at his belly.
Ondine wailed, ‘Hamish, are you all right?’
Hamish turned so pale he almost looked blue. Dismay and despair filled Ondine as she watched him collapse on the ground. Moans and groans followed. His clothes fell in a heap. After a few choice curses, Shambles the ferret poked his head out.
‘Oh, why now of all times?’ Frustration took hold. Ondine screamed and kicked the washing basket as the ferret she loved ran off.
78 In Brugel, an employee accrues eight weeks long-service leave at full pay (or sixteen weeks at half pay) after six years’ continuous employment with the one employer or company. This seems overly generous on the face of it, but in reality two out of three businesses in Brugel declare bankruptcy within the first year.
79 Naturally, Draguta didn’t mean hang up the baskets, she meant hang up the contents of the baskets.
Chapter Seventeen
Apart from the sheer aggravation of having the man you love transform into a ferret at the very moment you least want it to happen, Ondine had no idea why it had happened. She no longer had Hamish’s help to hang out the washing either. They’d done very little of it because they’d been so distracted. And she’d kicked the washing basket so hard the clean washing had flomped out on to the grass.
She picked up a white bed sheet and threw it as best she could over the line. Brushing off the blades of grass only made it worse: the beautiful, white, one-thousand-thread-count cotton now had natty green smudges.80 The sheets would have to be washed again. Draguta would be furious.
Walking back to the laundry, her foot hurt, her arms hurt from carrying the basket by herself, and her heart hurt because their kissing had ended way too soon.
‘I’m sorry, Draguta. These sheets fell on the grass, I’ll redo them. I’ll stay back late if I have to.’
Draguta put her fists on her hips. ‘Yes, you will. Where is helper Hamish?’
‘Um . . . he had to go.’ Her vision started to blur, which meant tears wouldn’t be far behind. She couldn’t very well expose his secret by saying he’d turned into a ferret and scarpered off.
Pyotr chose that moment to make another appearance. ‘Ondine, there you are. Your great aunt is asking for you. She’s had a bad reaction to the medicine.’
‘She should call for a doctor, not me,’ Ondine said. It was an uncharitable thing to say, but she wasn’t in a charitable mood.
‘Go. You are needed,’ Draguta said.
‘But there’s so much work to do here.’ Ondine wiped her sleeve over her face and sniffed.
Draguta shrugged in resignation. ‘There is. Sooner
you see your great aunt, sooner you come back and help.’
‘As if I have worms!’ From her bed, Old Col looked furious. Shambles had made his own way back and was sitting on the bedside table.
Two pink lips pressed into a thin line dominated her pale, wrinkled face. ‘That woman has a nerve, lumping me in with the rest of the staff. I’m here as the Duke’s guest! This is not how a hostess should treat her guests. I’ve a good mind to turn her into a –’
‘Col! No!’ Ondine jumped in before her great aunt cursed Duchess Kerala into something awful and irreversible. The image of No-Teeth-Biscuit’s raw, red gums popped into her head.
‘Relax, Ondine, I can’t do her any harm here. The Duke and Duchess are in the south wing. As much power as I have, I can’t curse people by remote control.’
Ondine said, ‘Please tell me Vincent had a dose of medicine, too? It would make me feel so much better.’
‘I hope so,’ Shambles said.
Ondine took in the sight of her great aunt properly. She looked so old and frail. ‘Is the Duke feeling better?’
‘His specialist is here from Venzelemma. We’ve cancelled all his appointments and have to pretend he’s tied up with paperwork.’
‘Is he getting worse?’ This was all getting so horrible and serious and not at all like the escapade she thought she’d be having with Hamish.
‘Not worse, exactly. But not any better either.’ Old Col made a face and breathed in hard against the pain.
Ondine felt sorry for her great aunt. ‘Pyotr said you needed me?’
‘Did he? That’s odd, I don’t remember speaking to him.’ She sucked her breath in as another pang took hold. ‘Shambles, if this is anything like your pain at transformation, I am truly sorry.’
‘Thanks. Yer a fine woman.’ His furry face crinkled in what Ondine could only assume was somewhere between shame and sympathy. ‘If ye’ll excuse me.’ Shambles made for the bathroom. In a few moments, to Ondine’s pure relief, he reappeared as his most gorgeous human self again, clothed and complete with a shy grin.
‘That’s much better,’ Ondine said, finding herself smiling again.
Hamish’s forehead crinkled like a concertina. ‘Aye. I think I know how it happened. The medicine hit me hard and sudden. It made me feel like the pain I get when I’m changing back, and so I did. Sorry aboot the lousy timing.’
Ondine shut her eyes and counted to ten.
‘Oh yes? And what were you and Ondine doing at the time?’ Old Col asked.
‘Nothing. Can I get you something to settle your tummy?’ Ondine changed the subject as fast as she could.
‘Ha ha, you must have been up to no good. Maybe Hamish felt guilty and that’s why he turned back?’
‘Some antacid perhaps, Aunt Col?’ Ondine tried again.
‘That would help. And a bowl of Toots Wheat with full-fat milk,’ she said, smoothing the bed covers. ‘I always find that helps bind things together and move them along.’
‘I’ll get some from the kitchen. I wish I’d thought of it earlier, it might have helped,’ Ondine said, thinking back to her own reaction to the medicine.
Old Col breathed hard against the next intestinal spasm. ‘This is so annoying. I have a very important meeting this afternoon with the CovenCon organisers and I must be well. We have a lot to discuss.’
‘What’s CovenCon?’ Ondine asked.
‘It’s our annual witches’ convention. It’s in Norange this year, of all places, so I’ll have to update my passport. Birgit Howser is organising it. There’s an oxymoron if ever I heard one. She couldn’t organise a you-know-what in a you-know-where. Oh, come on, stop swooning at each other and get me some medicine!’
‘You know, maybe we should all get out of here and go home.’ Ondine huffed out a pent-up sigh. ‘The whole lot of them are wonky in the head. The Duchess is stashing money, the Duke thinks his sister should be sectioned. Not to mention the way Vincent turned out. What makes people behave like that?’
‘Generations of inbreeding,’ Hamish said.
Ondine laughed.
‘He’s a balloon, that Vincent,’81 he added.
From the smile on his face, Ondine could tell he was really warming to the subject.
Old Col gave a slow shake of her head. ‘Ondine, our family is far from perfect. Those who live in glass houses and all that.’
‘We might have a few fights, but at least my family all love each other. I remember that night at the pub, the way the Duke looked at Vincent, as if he were nothing more than a huge disappointment. Vincent has everything he could ever want, but he’s a total pain.’
‘Too much money can do that to you,’ Old Col said.
Hamish slapped his hands together. ‘Right, weil, enough tongues flapping like lambs’ tails. We’ve goat a job tae do here and I fer one plan tae get it done.’
‘Oh, look at you, sounding all in charge,’ Ondine said, teasing.
‘I was trying tae be more polite than saying “atspish”, but ye forced me hand.’82
‘Yes, yes,’ Col said, ‘I know we haven’t achieved much, but we’ll get there.’
‘I dinnae mean tae rush ye, hen, but the Duke’s in trouble and we’re standing round jabbering. Let’s get back tae work, like.’
A wince of regret stole across Ondine. Why did Hamish have to like it here so much?
80 Most of us make do with two-hundred-thread-count cotton; that is, two hundred strands of cotton per square inch of fabric, counting the up and downy threads and the side to sidey threads. Most weavers claim it’s impossible to create true one-thousand-thread-count cotton, as there is simply no way to squeeze five hundred threads vertically and horizontally into one square inch. These weavers have yet to meet the incredible craftsmen and women of Venzelemma, who achieve the impossible on a daily basis.
81 ‘Balloon’ – somebody with an inflated ego.
82 ‘Atspish’ – a less than stellar result.
Chapter Eighteen
It was the end of another long day of school, butlering and homework. Ondine felt all warm and dozy as she settled into bed. Sleep embraced her like a welcoming hug. Scratching noises on the floor heralded the arrival of something small and furry.
‘Pssst,’ he said.
‘Whah?’ Ondine murmured, not keen to open her eyes because it felt so good to keep them closed. Even though it was Shambles in the room and she should make the effort. But she was so tired. Couldn’t he come back later?
‘PSST!’ he said, louder this time.
Through the fog of half-sleep, Ondine pulled the cover over her head. But then she heard his voice say, ‘I’m me again. And ye need more blankets because I’m fair freezing.’
She opened one eye and saw the man of her dreams, wrapped in two blankets he’d stolen from the end of her bed. ‘Oh, Hamish, it’s you.’
‘Shh, don’t wake Draguta,’ he said.
‘Fine, but you’re the one making all the noise.’
‘Ye have tae come with me, lass. There’s something going on that ye should know aboot.’
‘But I’m all warm.’
‘It’s the Duchess. She’s not happy.’
The warmth evaporated. She wobbled out of bed and wrapped her quilt around her shoulders to stave off the chill. Her feet prickled with cold, so she reached for her shoes.
‘Naw, lass, ye need tae be quiet, like.’
‘Righto.’ She pulled her socks on and her feet slid on the parquet floor.
‘Aye, good,’ Hamish said as they padded down the hallway, making barely a noise.
‘Why are we going to the laundry?’ Ondine asked once she realised the direction he was taking her.
‘Because the chutes have ears,’ Hamish said, leading her to one of the gaping black cupboard doors. ‘They’re like a periscope fer sound.’ Hamish crouched on the floor and waved Ondine to sit beside him. She leant into his embrace and felt freshly warmed and cared for. If they weren’t having to spy on people in such a drab location,
it might almost be romantic.
Voices carried down the chute. ‘It’s the Duchess and Ms Kyryl!’ Ondine said.
‘Smart lass.’ Hamish kissed her on the forehead.
Kerala and Ms Kyryl were chatting – complaining, really – about some kind of problem.
‘I tell you, no good can come of them being here,’ the Duchess said. ‘Things turned strange the moment they arrived. I’ve never seen a storm like it. And then fish fell from the sky. I mean, don’t you think that’s fishy? And they have done nothing for my dear husband’s health.’
Turning to Hamish, Ondine saw him make a face that said, I know. Understanding and worry passed between them – they were trying to help the Duke but the Duchess seemed convinced they were to blame for his failing health.
‘The old woman is paid far too much for doing nothing. And the girl – I tell you, cuz, there was something in her eyes when she looked at me and read my palm. As if she had nothing but bad intent towards me.’
‘That’s not true,’ Ondine whispered to Hamish. ‘She’s got it in for me and I haven’t done anything.’
‘Ye dinnae have tae convince me,’ he whispered back.
Hamish hugged her harder as the voices carried down the chute.
‘I can get her expelled for you, would that make you feel better?’ Ms Kyryl said. ‘Set her a test she’ll fail. Or catch her cheating, which I already suspect at any rate.’
‘That would remove the child, but what about the old woman?’ Kerala asked.
‘We’re done for!’ Ondine exclaimed.
‘Hush.’ Hamish kissed her again to console her. ‘At least now we know what we’re up against.’
They listened harder and did not like what they heard one bit.
‘The old lady has to go, Dionysia. I don’t like the influence that woman has. I can’t help thinking she’s poisoning Pavla’s mind against me.’
‘Really?’ Ms Kyryl asked the very question Ondine was thinking.
‘He promoted her to personal secretary pretty fast. I’m suspicious. She made him stay here while I went to Venzelemma on my own. Who knows what she slipped into his food or whispered into his ear in my absence.’
The Autumn Palace Page 13