I made myself take a deep breath. “Shirla, give me that plate RIGHT now,” I commanded. “And you’d better go and pack a case. I’ve decided that I want you to come with me to Europe.”
Shirla stopped and looked questioningly at Mummy.
“But Henry is going with you. It’s all been arranged,” said Mummy.
“I don’t care,” I said. “I want Shirla. It’s only for two days.”
Shirla shook her head. “I’s not going to Europe. Oh no, sugar. I’s got things to do, Mrs Hedley-Dent. My little Mariah. She in the nativity play tomorrow night. She being a camel. I can’t miss that, not for all the pea in China.”
“Tea, Shirla,” I said. “It’s tea in China and anyway, there wasn’t a camel in the nativity. There was a donkey though.”
Shirla laughed. “Her costume got four legs that’s all I know. And she sure look like a camel and I ain’t missing her not for you, not for nobody. It’s bad enough she didn’t get the part she wanted, which was the Christmas angel, so I ain’t missing it. No, siree.”
Typical, I thought. As usual, everyone is thinking about themselves.
Mummy had her frightened-rabbit look on. “Yes, it’s all been arranged,” she said.
At that moment, there was a sound around the front of the villa and Mummy ran out to see who it was.
I turned to Shirla. “You will come with me,” I said. “I can make you.”
Shirla laughed, raised an eyebrow, did a perfect withering look and shook a finger at me. “Just you try, sugar. Just you try. This is ma granddaughter’s first nativity play. I ain’t missing that.”
“Well that is your problem, Shirla. Don’t make it mine. And by the way… I lent you a hundred dollars last week. I’m sure Mummy wouldn’t like it if she knew about that! The staff borrowing money?”
“I ain’t forgotten,” said Shirla. She reached into the pocket of her apron and produced ten ten-dollar notes.
“Er… I don’t think so. I want interest on it,” I said. We did a class of economics at my last school. I knew all about lending and borrowing money. Our teacher had said that only a fool didn’t ask for interest.
For a moment, Shirla looked as if she would have liked to throw the plate at me, but she held back and put her money back in her pocket. “Okay, missy, so how much interest you want then?”
“Five per cent.”
Shirla shook her head and tutted then she handed the chips to me. “Uh-uh,” she said as she turned and wobbled towards the kitchen. “Oo-ee. You sure is one precious madam. Uh-uh you is.”
“And where’s my princess?” boomed a voice from around the front.
Seconds later, Daddy appeared. I didn’t even bother to look up, although I could see out of the corner of my eye that he had his smart work suit on, so he must have come from his office.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Come to see my girl off,” he said.
“But I’ll be back in a couple of days,” I said. “You’ve never come home to see me off before.”
Mummy shot Daddy a “look” as if they’d been caught out. They’re up to something, I thought. Probably getting me some secret Chrissie present. Hope it’s not another horse. If it is, I hope they get the right colour this time. They got me a white one for my birthday and he had to go back because Mercedes Bernshaw had a white one and no way was I going to be accused of copying that loser.
“Come on, give your old dad a hug,” said Dad and held out his arms.
I could hear that the car had arrived at last, so I got up and pushed past him. “Get real. I’m too old for hugs now,” I said as he lost his balance and toppled into a flower bed.
An hour later, I was on the plane and on my way. What a relief, I thought, inhaling the comfortingly expensive scent of the leather upholstery as we took off into the sky. Mummy and Daddy had been acting really weirded out, like they’d taken lovey-dovey pills or something. Mummy was all clingy, more so than usual, like “Oh, my darling girl,” and stroking my hair. Like, ew. I so don’t do emotional. (Except with Coco. I was sad to leave her). It was particularly embarrassing with Mummy and Daddy because there was a tall handsome suntanned man with a mane of dark hair at the hangar who was watching me, as if he couldn’t take his eyes off me. Okay, so he was way too old for boyfriend material, like, maybe old enough to be my dad even, but he had the X factor and probably recognized a kindred spirit in me, seeing as I also have it. I think he was a celebrity. He looked familiar – possibly an actor off the telly. It would have been something to brag about when I went back to school, that is if I’d had a school to be going back to. Or a bunch of friends to brag to in fact. I did once upon a time, but that was long ago. My sister Poppy and I had tons of friends and our house used to be always full of people, but I wasn’t going to let myself think about then. It never did any good. I blinked back sudden tears and steeled myself. Past is past. Gone.
As the plane burst through the clouds though, I couldn’t help but wonder what had come over Daddy. He was usually like me. Mr Unemotional. But even he had given me a big hug (when he had climbed out of the flower bed) as if he was going to miss me for once. Maybe they were both worried that the plane might crash or something. Whatever. I hadn’t responded to either of their over-cringy goodbyes – like why should I pretend I was going to miss them? They didn’t really care about me. If they did, they would have forced Shirla to come with me. A small request, that’s all I’d made. I liked Shirla. She’s so totally a non-bull type of person and I had to respect that, though I didn’t let on about it to her. But no point in moping over it, I decided as I put all thoughts of St Kitts out of my head. I looked out the window. Despite the bad start the day had got off to, I couldn’t help feeling excited. Tigsy was good fun. Okay, so she wasn’t Poppy, but we were going to have a top time in Paris.
To pass the flight time, I totted up my accounts and worked out who owed me what.
Shirla: $100
Henry: $250
Mason: $200
Plus interest at five per cent. I worked it out on my little calculator. It’s a dinky pink one. Designer, of course. So cute. Cost a fortune. To get five per cent, you multiply by point-oh-five. Cool. And if they don’t pay me back by January, I shall put the interest up another per cent. Mummy and Daddy would be so pleased that my education wasn’t totally wasted, I thought as I tucked my notebook away.
There were still hours to go, so I read a few mags, watched a DVD, snoozed a little and ate a few of the assorted canapés that had been prepared by Mason before we left. I had to send a couple of things back – like when will they get that I don’t eat avocados? I so don’t do slime. I’ve told Henry again and again. As a punishment for him accompanying me instead of Shirla, I made him give me a manicure. When he’d finished, I told him I hated the colour and redid my nails myself. After that, I watched another movie, then dozed off again and woke to feel my ears pop. Ah. We must be starting to land, I thought as I took a peek outside the window. I’d been to Paris before and one of my favourite parts was seeing it come into view from the plane.
“Fasten your seat belts as we shall be landing shortly,” came Pete the pilot’s voice over the intercom.
We were still above the clouds so there was nothing to see as the plane continued its descent, but I kept looking and at last, we burst through clouds and I could see the ground below. Erk? Fields and fields of green. What’s that all about? Where’s the Eiffel Tower? We must be coming in from a different angle to my previous trips, I thought as I felt the wheels beneath the plane come out ready for landing. I never realized Paris had so much countryside around it.
“Plane ready for landing. Staff, take your seats,” came Pete’s voice.
Henry came in from the kitchen area, took his seat on the opposite side of the compartment and strapped himself in. I continued looking out the window. “Hey, Henry. Have we been diverted to another airport outside Paris?”
Henry looked down at the floor.
> “Henry?”
He looked as if he was having an eye nerve attack and didn’t know where to look. His eyes rotated round from his shoes to the overhead racks to the window. Up, down, around, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Well?” I asked again.
“Um. Yes. Slight diversion I think. Slight. Yes…”
“You think? But why? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Sleeping,” squeaked Henry. “You were sleeping.”
“Don’t worry, Henry. I’m not going to be cross, just I like to be kept informed. Is there bad weather? Fog? What is it? Snow?”
Henry was looking really peculiar. “Um. No. Temperatures are cold but no, no snow.”
Maybe he’s a bad flyer, I thought, but… we’ve flown together before and he’s never acted like this. “Are you okay, Henry?”
“Oh yes,” said Henry looking anything but okay.
I looked out the window again and got a strange feeling that we weren’t over France at all. The fields below looked remarkably like… like England! I knew it well seeing as three of my schools had been there. A feeling of panic hit my stomach. There was something going on that Henry wasn’t telling me about. Oh god, the plane was going down. Must be engine trouble. Why else would we be landing here? Oh god, that’s why Henry looks freaked. He knows. Are we going to make it? Oh god. I’m too young to die.
I gripped onto the sides of my seat. “Tell me, Henry, tell me the truth. We’re going to crash, aren’t we? How bad is it?”
Henry kept staring ahead. He still wouldn’t even look at me. Must be really bad, I thought.
“HENRY. ANSWER ME.”
I was beginning to feel really scared by now and felt a tantrum coming on. I hit the pause button on it. Not the time, I thought as I looked out the window again. We were coming in to land at a small airport. Definitely not Charles de Gaulle. Ah, non, definitement, non. I had been there. And this wasn’t it. Not by a million miles. This looked more like a private airport. Where were we?
As the plane landed with a soft bump on the runway, the brakes screamed on slowing us down, then we began to cruise towards a hangar and small prefab building. Not crashed then, I thought. Or maybe just one engine was in trouble and we had to make an early landing and Henry didn’t want to scare me. That was okay. I made myself take a deep breath.
“I’m okay, Henry. Now. All I need to know is what is going on. That’s not too much to ask now, is it?”
Henry shook his head, unclasped his belt, stood up and began to walk past me. “Sorry,” he mouthed as he disappeared out of the cabin.
Sorry? Sorry? What for? My mind went into overdrive. I quickly pulled my phone out and switched it on ready to call Tigsy, then Mummy. Before I could punch in Tigsy’s number, the cabin door opened and the celebrity man who had been staring at me back in St Kitts was standing there. How did he get on board? I wondered as he beamed a kilowatt smile, revealing a set of Hollywood-white teeth. Then the penny dropped. Ah! Hijacked. That’s what’s happened and Henry’s in on it. I never trusted him. Probably in it for money. Happens all the time. He was always borrowing money and he could never pay it back. Oh god, how utterly dreary.
“You won’t be needing that where you’re going, miss,” said the strange man as he strode over to me, reached down and took my phone. “Now, if you’d like to get up and come with me.”
Chapter Three
Pas Paris
“Who are you?”
Silence.
“Where are you taking me?”
Silence.
We were whizzed through customs and I found myself in the back of a car. A car with tinted windows so I could see out but no-one could see in. Celebrity man was in the front, and between us was a glass partition, but I could see that there was a gap in it through which he could hear me. There was no doubt about it, I had been kidnapped. I had done my best to resist getting off the plane but the man had simply picked me up, put me over his shoulder and carried me out to the car as if I were as light as a feather. Of course, I kicked and thumped but it seemed to have no effect at all. The man was a monster. Or wearing body armour. Whichever, his broad shoulders didn’t seem to feel my protests.
“Can I have my phone back?”
Silence.
“I need to use the bathroom.”
Silence.
“Look, my parents are very rich, but I expect you know that already. They will pay you off, no doubt about it. I even have my own account with thousands in it so how about we don’t waste any more time, you let me speak to them, we’ll get your money sorted and I can be on my way to Paris to meet my friend?”
More silence.
“Where’s Henry? I suppose he put you up to this?”
Still no reply. I felt a tantrum coming on. “WeeeraaaarrrgHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” I blasted out. I pummelled the seats. Kicked the back of the front seats. Thrashed about. The man didn’t take any notice at all. Not one bit. He didn’t even turn around. Hmm. Tantrum tactic not working, I thought. Best save my energy for later.
I leant forwards to tap on the glass partition. And that was when I saw that he was listening to an iPod. No wonder he wasn’t responding.
“Oi, dingbat brain,” I yelled, but he was warbling along with some tune, totally oblivious to me in the back. I knocked on the partition again. Nothing.
I had no choice but to sit back and look out the window. It was beginning to grow dark outside, but I could see that the area was rural. We drove through a village with shops and where houses looked warm and cosy as people switched lights on and through one window, I glimpsed a family gathering round a fire. I saw a sign for the village as we left it behind. Osbury? Osbury, sounds vaguely familiar, I thought and made a mental note of it so that I could tell my rescuers later. After the village, the road grew dark again and we made our way through hedgerows, narrow lanes. We are totally out in the country, I thought as we sped along. I wonder where X-factor man is taking me.
After a further fifteen minutes, there was some movement in the front. I leant forwards to see that the driver had taken off his headphones.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” he replied.
“Did you hear any of what I was saying before?”
“A bit. Who? Why? Where? Yeah. Heard all that. That’s why I put on my headphones. Henry’s on his way back to St Kitts. He had nothing to do with this.”
“So who are you?”
“Name’s Sonny Olympus.”
I burst out laughing. “Sonny Olympus! What kind of stupid name is that?”
Sonny looked put out. “My name!” he replied, then he pouted like a spoilt sulky teenager. “And it is so not stupid. If you’ve really got a problem, though, you can call me Mr O, but only if you must.”
I laughed again. My tactic was to make him feel inferior. It works on most people. “Mr O! Pff. Also a stupid name. So who are you anyway?”
He turned and said proudly. “I am, or will be, like a ray of sunshine in your life. I am to be your guardian for a month.”
“Oh, get a life,” I said. “I’m a bit old for guardians wouldn’t you say?” But something he had said had panicked me. A month. Whoever was behind this, Mr O or a whole bunch of them, they planned to keep me for a month. No way. Outside the scenery looked bleak, like we were driving through the moors. I felt a trickle of fear and, as a hundred horror stories began to play through my mind, I tried not to imagine what could happen to me in such a remote place.
“You did hear that my parents are very rich…?” I began.
“Yep, heard that bit. And you’ve got thousands. Lucky old you.”
“So as soon as you call Mummy and Daddy, they’ll pay.”
For some reason, Mr O seemed to think that I had said something hysterical and guffawed loudly.
“WHY are you laughing?”
“Oh, I think you’ll find that they’ve paid already,” he said in a really girlie spiteful way. Just who is this guy? I wondered.
/> “Paid already? What do you mean?”
“Board and lodging. Hey, relax, kid. You’ll see soon enough.”
“Don’t call me ‘kid’. And relax? Are you from another planet?”
This caused Mr O to laugh more than ever. “Yes. Yes. Indeed I am,” he said. “How observant of you.”
Rude, sulky and sarcastic, and all in under an hour, I thought. Boy! This guy could almost outdo me!
He was starting to really annoy me. Time to try another tactic, I decided. I leant forwards and caught his eyes in the driver’s mirror. He smiled. I smiled back. “You really are very handsome you know…” I began. Flattery usually gets you everywhere, particularly with boys, and although Mr O was clearly a man, what are men except older boys?
Mr O nodded his head. “Yes. I do know. People tell me all the time.”
D’er. Modest, too. Not, I thought as I flicked my hair and did my best seductive look. Mr O flicked his hair at exactly the same time. “I’m sure they do,” I said. “Now, Mr O, if you are nice to me, I’ll be nice to you and…”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, cut it out. Who do you think you are? Lolita the teenage seductress? I’m way too old for you. Way too old.”
“Okay, so how old are you, then?”
Mr O snorted. “Couple of thousand centuries. You?”
“Fourteen.”
“Exactly. I rest my case.”
“Anyway, that’s stupid. You can’t be a couple of centuries old. That’s not possible.”
“There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, kid,” said Mr O.
“Oh, yeah? Says who? And don’t call me ‘kid’.”
“Pal of mine name of William Shakespeare.”
Oh, good heavens, I thought. He thinks he’s centuries old and a friend of Shakespeare’s. He’s a nutter.
“I have my own money, you know Mr O…” I began again.
“I know. You said. Lesson number one. Money can’t buy you everything and you’d better believe me, it won’t where we’re going,” he said as we rounded a corner and I glimpsed the lights of a building ahead. It was hard to see in the dark, but it looked like an old fortress on top of a hill. The lights were on and cast a warm glow out into the dark night. Our hotel, I thought as Mr O drove up and stopped the car. At least it appears that they’re going to hide me somewhere decent.
Zodiac Girls: Brat Princess Page 2
