“We don’t have time for this. You need a bath and I’m giving you one.” Ondine placed the plug in the plughole and set about filling the basin with warm water.
“Right . . . but it’s just that . . . I’ve never had a bath with anyone else before. It’s well confronting if ye think aboot it.”
Ondine laughed. “But Shambles, come on, you’re only . . .”
“Only what? A ferret? Thanks a lot.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
Shambles shook his head, “Thank you. I think. Now, I have to warn ye,” he dipped his front paw in the water, “oh no, that’s too hot, more cold water please.” Ondine did so. “That’s better. Now, I have to warn you about that Duke and his family. Especially Vincent. He’s got it in fer us.”
Ondine dropped the soap, “Lord Vincent? But he was here with his friends and they had a great time.” She blushed furiously at the memory. The wrist he’d kissed now propped up the black ferret in the basin. He leant against it for support, and she could feel his small heart hammering away.
“He was here? Then it’s worse than I thought. Stay away from them, Ondi, They’re bad news. They’re the ones setting the halth inspecta on to us. They want to close us down.”
Ondine retrieved the soap and scrubbed Shambles’s furry back. Time to change the subject.
“Shambles, before you became a ferret, how did you like to do your hair?” He’d look so cute with a big curl on his forehead.
“Eh? I dunno, lass, I jest brushed it. Why d’ye ask?”
“Just wondering,” she said, wondering how he might have done his hair, wondering what colour it had been, wondering whether he was as handsome as Lord Vincent. “I mean, was it really long so you had to tie it back or did you cut it short?”
“Short like Lord Vincent’s?”
“Yeah,” she said before thinking.
“Aha! So you’re thinking of him while you’re bathing me, lass?”
Mercury’s wings! “No, it’s not like that.”
“Really now?”
“Shambles, please. I was actually wondering what you looked like.”
“And why might that be? So ye can compare me to Vincent?”
Yes. “No, not like that. Just that it would be nice if I knew who I was talking to.” Phew, that was a close call!
“All right. I used to be fit, like. I had short hair, and all the bits of my face were where they’re s’posed to be.”
The description helped. A bit. “You’re lucky I didn’t know who you really were, otherwise I might have left you at Psychic Summercamp.”
A stray thought came unbidden – thank goodness she’d come home early from Summercamp, otherwise who knows what might have happened?[32]
After Ondine finished washing and drying Shambles, and he looked and smelled like a proper clean ferret should, she made for the dining room and got to work. She carried chairs and tables out to the rear garden – as soon as guests vacated them – so she could scrub them down in daylight. It was impressive how quickly guests chose to leave the premises once she removed their capacity to remain sitting.
Shambles ducked under a chair. “What are you doing?” Ondine asked.
“Gnawing awf tha gobs of chewing gum,” he replied, sounding like he had a mouth full of the goo already. “Folks have such filthy habits.”
In the harsh light of day, the timber furniture looked hideous. Many pieces were scratched and dented and some refused to stop wobbling.
“Let’s do some sorting,” Shambles said. “The worst of them go by the back shed. We’ll take the wee stoppers off the feet and use them on the good stuff.”
“Good idea, Shambles.”
“Aw, thanks, lass. It’s nice to feel useful.”
Ondine beamed at the compliment. “So, you haven’t filled me in on where you’ve been. Care to elaborate?”
“I was fair traumatized by the whole thing. I woke up in the Duke’s place. Big and echoey and full of people wearing stompy boots. If I ever go back there, it will be too soon. I found a place to hide and waited for the Duke to return. He did, with Vincent, and all the time I was there, Vincent was saying how they needed to close us down.”
“But . . . that doesn’t make sense. If they hated it, why didn’t they say something when they were here?”
“I don’t know what their motives are either, lass, but I know what I heard, and it was Vincent leading the charge. Hey, how come every time I say his name ye get that funny look on yer face?”
“I don’t get a funny look.”
“Yes ye do. Lord Vincent.”
Ondine kept her expression as stern as possible.
“I know ye don’t want to listen to me, but it’s the truth. Lord Vincent is nawt to be trusted.”
“I’ve heard enough,” Ondine said. “We have work to do.” She spent the rest of the day scrubbing down timber, polishing the good items and fixing what she could, with Shambles directing her. Ma came out to inspect their work, a beaming smile spreading across her satisfied face.
“I thought I’d have to buy a whole new set, but you’ve done a marvellous job, you two. Right, when you’re finished, come and help us carry out the carpet.”
Just as her mother had ordered, the family was scrubbing their way through the entire building. It meant tearing up the ancient, smelly carpet and exposing the floorboards. Considering the flooring was old, stained and reeked of beer, the renovations were long overdue. By the end of the day they’d done a lot of work, but the place didn’t look exactly clean. If anything, they’d stirred up such huge amounts of fetid dust they’d created yet more mess. It was only one day; they were sure to make more mess tomorrow.
Rolling up the carpet had exposed a thick layer of old newspapers. Not the underlay most people had in their homes to create a soft cushion to walk on, contributing to a lovely, homey atmosphere. Like the carpets before them, the newspapers stank of beer and other weird things, so they had to go as well.
“Load them all into the fireplace. We’ll have a ritual burning and cleansing ceremony tonight. I hope Auntie Col gets here in time – she’ll have some good spells,” Ma said.
“Is yer Auntie Col coming here tonight?” Shambles asked. “Could she turn me back?”
Ondine froze. Shambles wanted to be a real man again. Which meant she’d finally get to see what he looked like. In her mind, she’d begun giving him features she found pleasing. But what if the end result fell short? What if he was – gulp – gobsmackingly ugly? In her heart, she knew that was a selfish way of looking at things. Shambles was entitled to his former life. He should be allowed to be himself again no matter what he looked like.
It’s the personality, not the package that counts.
Another sad thought popped into her head. If Shambles became human again, there would definitely be no more snuggling in bed.
She shook the imaginings from her mind in the same way she shook the dust from the old curtains.
“Becoming human again is a good idea, Shambles. We could do with the extra manpower,” Ma said.
Typical Ma.
“Hey, look at this,” Marguerite interrupted. She held up a sheet of old newspaper. Because it had been protected from sunlight, the paper had retained its original off-white colour. The contrasting black text was easy to read. “It’s an obituary of the old Duke of Brugel. Must be the current Duke’s father. Oh, and it’s a juicy one too. Listen to this: it says he died without having to answer to charges of embezzlement.”
“Keep hold of that. It might come in handy,” Da said.
“So might this,” Thomas said, lifting up a section of floorboard. “There’s something down here.”
Working together, Da and Thomas pulled up another two boards. All of them were cut into short lengths, as if designed to come away together. In the cobwebby recesses beneath the barroom floor lay a large metal box. It reminded Ondine of the deposit box in the kitchen, where they put all their money for safekeeping until the banks opened.[33]
T
he mysterious box was so heavy they called in Chef to help them lift it out. The men grunted and groaned, pulled it free with an ‘oomph’, then dropped the box at their feet. More dust billowed.
A tingle of excitement crept into Ondine’s throat – along with the dust – as she began to imagine what might be in the box.
“What’s in it?” Marguerite asked the hushed room.
In a flash, Shambles dropped down from Ondine’s shoulder and clambered on to the box, chewing at its leather straps until they came free. Thomas and Josef lifted the lid. Their mouths fell open. So did Ondine’s. And Ma’s, and Marguerite’s. Even Shambles’s wee furry mouth, full of nippy fangs and a little pink tongue, gaped in shock.
“Saturn’s rings!” Ondine gasped.
“Looks like we’ve found a way to pay for the renovations,” Da said.
“What did I tell you? I knew Shambles would bring us good luck,” Ma said.
Chapter Seven
The contents of the box gleamed in the afternoon sunlight shining through the front windows. Gold rings. Bracelets. Fine threads of necklaces studded with diamonds. Brooches. Earrings with drop pearls. A tiara with red gems that might have been rubies – Ondine couldn’t tell. Not a tangled mess, as you might expect, but all sorted and segmented into neat little compartments. Underneath the tray of gleaming jewellery they found wads of banknotes, stamped with faces and places on them, which Ondine didn’t recognise. They must have been made before the currency changed.[34]
“Do pirates come this far inland?” Cybelle held up a necklace with a delicate anchor-shaped charm at the clasp. The anchor spun back and forth, catching the light. Strange that the main feature of the necklace should be at the back, until Ondine realised it was designed to be worn with your hair up.
Marguerite stepped closer to admire the booty. “Do we invoke the international treaty of ‘finders keepers’?”
Unable to stop herself, Ondine reached forward and picked up a couple of elegant necklaces. One looked as delicate and complicated as a crocheted doily, if you could make a doily from spun silver, then BeDazzle it with diamonds.[35]
Ma sounded out of breath. “Let’s just think about this for a minute. Think about where all of this may have come from.”
Ondine could have sworn she saw a gob of spittle dart from her mother’s mouth, as if she were salivating over their new-found riches. Nobody else took any notice of her – they were too busy making strange “ooh” noises and admiring piece after piece.
“Let’s move it to the back room for the moment, so we can keep working on the clean-up,” Ma said at last.
“Er, no, my love, I think this means work stops for the day,” Da said, rubbing his hand over his chin in thought.
Ondine found herself caught in the web of admiration. The next object she picked up was a simple bracelet made from braided gold. She couldn’t help testing the latch to see if it would fit around her wrist.
“Have ye all lawst yer minds?” Shambles said, climbing Ondine’s shoulder. “There’s a halth inspecta coming.”
Ondine shook her head to try and grab hold of her senses again. “Um, everyone, Shambles just made a good point: we need to hide the loot before the health inspector comes.” With reluctance she put the fine piece back in the box.
Ma took a deep breath and stepped back. “Chef, Thomas, Josef, get that box out the back somewhere safe. We’ll keep going with the cleaning up in here.”
A heavy creak of timber provided an immediate stop to the discussion, as the front door pushed open to reveal a suit-clad woman (and not the man they’d been expecting) holding a clipboard. A pair of soda-bottle thick, tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of her thin nose, making her deep grey eyes appear much larger than they should.
In a flurry of movement, everyone tossed their jewels into the box. The men made themselves look busy. Ma and her daughters stood in front of the box to hide it.
Something about the woman looked odd to Ondine. It wasn’t her short, salt-and-pepper hair or her enormously wide bottom and thighs, barely reined in by her too-tight skirt, although that did look weird. For a moment longer Ondine found herself staring, before she worked it out. The woman had no eyelashes at all.
“Quick, make a distraction,” Shambles ordered.
Extending her hand in greeting, Ondine walked towards their visitor. “Hello, you must be the health inspector. My name’s Ondine and I’ve just come back from Psychic Summercamp. May I please read your palm? Oh, thank you,” she said, taking the woman’s hand before she had time to refuse. All the while, Ondine’s heart hammered behind her ribs, shocked at her own audaciousness.
“You have a rodent on your shoulder,” the woman said, her eyelash-less eyes widening even more.
“Grrrrr,” Shambles said.
Lurch went Ondine’s stomach. Perhaps the ferret on the shoulder wasn’t such a good idea, hygiene-wise? “Oh please, pay him no mind – he’s my familiar, and he’s also my assignment from Summercamp. And he’s a ferret, not a rodent. Member of the stoat and otter family; completely different species to rodents. They’re very clean animals, ferrets. Can’t speak for rats or mice though. Well, look here at your life line.” Ondine channelled her mother’s skill of jumping from one subject to the next without pausing for breath.
It wasn’t a case of seeing anything in the palm, because Ondine didn’t have a clue what to look for. It didn’t matter – all she had to do was distract the woman, not divine her future. Which meant saying the first thing that popped into her head.
“You have three grown sons. The youngest is a teenager who is still at school, but the other two are older and have careers now.”
“How did you know that?” the woman said, her steely grey eyes softening at the information. She still hadn’t introduced herself, but that opportunity seemed to have passed.
Keep going, that’s the best diversion.
“You don’t like what the eldest is doing. It’s not that you disapprove; it’s just that you worry about him. He is really happy because he’s following his dream. The middle son is a bit of a plodder. He’s good, but he’s coasting along, isn’t he? You know he can do better but he won’t apply himself. The youngest is your baby, and always will be, but you need to let him grow up and make his own mistakes.”
“Well, I’ll be!” the woman said. “If you tell me what my name is then I’ll really believe you’re psychic.”
Something tingled inside Ondine, a mixture of full-blown pride at her success so far and adrenalin at how daring she had become. “It’s Wilma Klegg, but that doesn’t make me psychic, merely observant. It’s written on the top of your clipboard.” A smile of satisfaction spread over her face. A buzz of confidence filled her soul.
Hey, I can do this.
“Ondine, please leave the health inspector alone, she has a job to do,” Ma said as she approached them. Her mother’s voice sounded annoyed and imperious. To an outsider, it would seem like the mother was rescuing a visitor from a precocious child. However, the de Groot women knew Ondine had just saved them from a whole heap of trouble.
As Ma led Mrs Klegg towards the kitchen, she turned back to Ondine and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
“Ye did well, lass. That was inspired, like.” Shambles gave her a wet, whiskery kiss on the cheek. “I’m really proud of ye.”
A little thrill of excitement raced through Ondine. “I just said whatever popped into my head. I guessed she had kids, because you don’t get thighs like that on a spinster. I took her right hand, and I saw the ring on it, with three sapphires, so I figured that she’d had three boys.”
“Eh? Jewellery marks children?”
Ondine beamed. Who’d have thought she’d enjoy pretending to be psychic? “Why yes, Shambles. When a woman gives birth, the very least her devoted husband can do is to shower her in jewellery to mark the occasion. It’s a very strong tradition in my family. Haven’t you seen Ma’s rings, with the rubies set in them? One ruby for each of
us.”
“Top marks for being observant. But what about all that guff about her boys and how she treats them?”
A chuckle escaped Ondine’s lips as she bent down to the floor to scoop up mouldy newspapers for the fire, checking them first in case they contained anything juicy about the former Duke. “I just thought about the way Da thinks of us. I think I’m starting to work out why he’s so strict with me. I’m his baby; he doesn’t want me growing up too soon. When the first child leaves the nest, the parents fall over themselves with worry. I just figured that if Mrs Klegg had three boys, and we’re three girls, how different could it be? I just told her what she wanted to hear.”
“Well then, yer truly psychic. The old lady Howser would be proud of ye.”
“Mrs Howser?” Ondine thought of her Psychic Summercamp instructor. “I bet she hasn’t even noticed I’m gone.”
With a pang she thought of her friend Melody, and how much she missed her.
“Did I ever tell ye how I came to be at Mrs Howser’s?” Shambles asked.
“I don’t believe you have,” Ondine said, not really paying him much attention because she felt too nervous about what the health inspector might find.
“It’s a funny story, really. After Old Col cast her spell I was all adrift, ye might say. She was friends with Mrs Howser at the time, ye see. But they weren’t really friends because they weren’t very nice to each other. More what you call frenemies. Are ye even listening to me, Ondi?”
What? “Yes, of course.” Ondine watched Mrs Klegg and Ma disappear into the kitchens and heard lots of tisking noises of disapproval.
“Ye know lass, I never did meet Mr Howser. I don’t think he lasted the distance. But Mrs Howser took a shine to me and stole me right from under Colette Romano’s nose. I thought Colette would come for me, once she got over her fit of pique, but she never did.”
“That’s nice,” Ondine said, barely hearing a word of it.
AN HOUR LATER, WILMA Klegg’s scowl deepened into a dark furrow. The more her lips thinned and pressed together like closed book pages, the more Ma’s painted-on smile looked ready to crack. Wilma pulled on a white glove and ran her finger over the kitchen benches. She sighed with disappointment. Something heavy fell in Ondine’s stomach. A sense of foreboding clamped around her heart.
The Ondine Collection Page 6
