The Ondine Collection

by Ebony McKenna

  “I’m glad I didn’t give you two minutesh, you would have cleaned me out,” the Duchess said.

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Ondine said, before making a hasty bow and an even hastier exit.

  “Was there trouble?” Anathea asked when she returned.

  “Just your sister-in-law keeping an eye on the food supplies.”

  “That woman.” Anathea rolled her eyes and shook her head, making Ondine giggle in shared sympathy.

  For the next half hour, she and the Infanta got their hands dirty making pancake batter and biscuits.

  “This is good fun,” The Infanta said.

  They had flour all over the counter top and themselves, but they didn’t care. Ondine couldn’t get over the change in the Infanta. “I’ll start cooking the pancakes,” she said. “Now, the rule is, the first one is always a bit of a mess.”

  “Hah! Just like marriages!” Anathea said.

  Ondine laughed, marvelling at this new Infanta and how friendly she could be when the mood suited her. Which sent a little ping of worry through her, because Duke Pavla had instructed her to report everything back to him. What could she say? Your sister’s not such a bad old sort after all?

  They rolled the biscuit dough into balls and flattened them on the trays with their fingers. They pressed the ginger pieces in, making patterns and smiley faces.

  “Would you like to lick the bowl?” Ondine wondered if she’d gone too far in this new, informal atmosphere developing between them. How confusing that she should be having such a sweet time with the Infanta while her relationship with Hamish felt like it was falling apart.

  “No, but a cup of tea wouldn’t go astray.”

  “I’ll get right on it, once I’ve put the tray in the oven,” Ondine said.

  “No need.” The Infanta placed her hand lightly on top of Ondine’s. “The pot of tea shall be made by me.” Ondine wasn’t sure if she could cope with any more surprises. The Infanta washed her hands, removed her apron and walked back to her rooms. Ondine remained in the kitchen, humming a quiet tune as she scraped the messy pancake off the pan and started a new one. Giving in to temptation, she had a bite. Ugly but delicious!

  The sound of footsteps in the other room was followed by Duchess Kerala’s strident voice: “Why are you not bowing to your bettersh?”

  The demand for obedience had Ondine recalling her hideous encounter with Lord Vincent. Although she couldn’t see the Infanta, Ondine assumed Anathea made some kind of bow, because she heard the Duchess say, “Thash better.”

  “Your Grace, by what honour do I have the privilege of our meeting today?” the Infanta said.

  “The Duke has inshtructed me to invite you to the Harvesht Ball,” the Duchess said in a tone that could only be described as pained.

  “My brother is the very milk of human kindness,” Anathea said.

  Ondine remained in the kitchen. Hiding away seemed the safest bet as she listened to the women trying to be civil to each other.

  “I trusht you will behave yourself this year,” the Duchess said.

  “I shall be the model of gracious behaviour.”

  “Good. That is all.”

  When the Infanta came back to the kitchen, she had a scowl on her face. An actual scowl! Her neatly plucked eyebrows were clamped down and there were ridges in her forehead. “Oh, that woman! Comes in here soaked to the gills and tells me to behave myself! She should be pushed down the stairs. She’s so drunk everyone would think it an accident.”

  “Mmm,” Ondine said as non-committally as possible. All the while uncharitable thoughts criss-crossed her head. She found herself completely agreeing with Anathea about how painful the Duchess was.

  On the other hand, the Infanta wanting to cause harm to the Duchess meant she finally had something useful to tell the Duke. Even if it was only an empty threat. But what should she do? Save her skin or save this new-found friendship?

  When the biscuits and pancakes were ready, they sat down together and ate them, with the pot of tea the Infanta made. The tea wasn’t awful, as such, but Ondine knew she could make better. Not that she said so, because Anathea looked really pleased with herself.

  “Come here, Biscuit,” the Infanta called to the dog. He bounded on to her lap. She dipped her biscuit into her tea and fed it to the dog.

  A biscuit for Biscuit.

  Ondine couldn’t help recoiling when Anathea dunked the rest of the Biscuit-sucked biscuit into her tea a second time.

  WHEN ONDINE WOKE UP the next morning in her cold dormitory, Draguta was already up and dressed, and about to leave. Ondine had to act quickly.

  “Wait. I need to tell you something,” she said.

  “Oh yes?” Draguta’s shoulders slumped. “Don’t make me late. Duchess is more horrible than usual.”

  “Try not to be upset,” Ondine said.

  “Impossible. I upset.”

  Oh dear. Ondine gulped. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I know about your teddy.”

  The woman’s eyes turned to ice. “Why you say ‘teddy’?”

  There seemed little point in pretending ignorance. “I didn’t mean to pry. I found out by accident. I was feeling really fragile after I’d had that fight with Hamish and I gave your teddy a cuddle because he looked soft and warm. But he was all lumpy.”

  “You snoop!” Draguta leapt back to her bed and grabbed the stuffed toy, giving it a squeeze to make sure its contents were in place.

  “No, it wasn’t like that!” This was all going so badly! Ondine wrapped a thin dressing gown around herself to keep out the early morning chill. “I found out by accident . . . but . . . I couldn’t help wondering . . .”

  “Why I am thief?” Draguta placed the teddy under her pillow.

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Hah! Have not lasted years in palace by trusting sweet-face girls.”

  If Draguta had smacked her she couldn’t have hurt her more. “But we’re friends,” Ondine said, caught in confusion.

  “I have no friends,” Draguta said.

  “But that’s terrible!”

  “Ack! Don’t look full of sorrow.” Draguta shook her head, put her hands on her hips and paced the room a bit. She threw her hands in the air and said, “Ack! I grow soft. Kerala sacked me before. One month before last long service. She found me . . .” she looked up, as if asking the heavens for guidance. Or forgiveness. “ . . . Was private. Duchess found me. She said instant dismissal. I left, no savings. Came back two weeks later and begged for old job. Ha! Thought Duchess kind to let me back. At first. Then people talk. I put it all away in here,” Draguta tapped the side of her head. “It was set-up, Duchess sacked me to save money. I know she will do again, I waiting for axe to fall. Teddy is compensation.”

  “Oh, Draguta, I’m so sorry.” Ondine moved in for a hug, fully expecting a rebuff. Instead, Draguta threw herself into Ondine’s arms. All sharp angles and pointy bits.

  Draguta wiped her face. “Looks bad, but I never steal. I draw line at that. Never take money what isn’t mine. But if Duchess and silly friends leave things in pockets when throw out washing, I keep. Not big things. Little bits and bobs they not notice. Is not stealing. Is collecting.”

  They stood on shaky ethical ground. On the one hand the Duchess had schemed to sack someone to save money – stealing Draguta’s entitlements with a workplace loophole. Draguta was stealing by way of opportunity, but they were items that had gone unnoticed by their owners.

  Is it theft if it falls in your lap and the previous owner doesn’t even realise?

  “I promise I won’t tell a soul,” Ondine said, thinking about all the people she couldn’t tell. It made her heart ache that little bit more to think she couldn’t even tell Hamish, because he wasn’t even talking to her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ondine sat down on a rickety chair in the ballroom wearing her Cabbage costume for the Harvest Pageant. It was an ugly meringue of a dress, which sapped her confidence. However, it succeed
ed brilliantly at being a fabric cabbage – all layers of green lace and padded foam built around a succession of hoops. Even the ruffles around her neck looked just like a cabbage’s outer leaves.

  Ms Kyryl was on stage, directing the rehearsal. In one hand she held a banana. The moment she finished eating it, she called for a lunch break.[168]

  Ondine nibbled on a cheese sandwich made from crusts of rye loaf. She looked over to see Ms Kyryl peel her jam sandwich apart and add anchovies and potato crisps to it.

  Ondine lost her appetite.

  Over by the doorway, a small ferrety shape darted behind the curtains. The shape moved to a quiet corner behind the stage. Any moment now, he’d dive into the costume trunk and transform into his lovely self.

  “Oh, there ye are, lass,” Shambles said from behind a prop tree.

  Why didn’t he want to grab some clothes and become human? Ondine gave thanks for small mercies that at least he was talking to her again.

  Keeping her voice low so as not to attract attention, Ondine murmured, “Hamish, I’m sorry for everything I said before. I really am.” Perhaps using his proper name would encourage him to be his proper self?

  He shifted back and forth on his paws and looked at the ground. “Aye, ye cut me good. I was only trying tae help ye, lass.”

  “I know, but . . . I was really upset.” Ondine fidgeted with her cabbage costume. “I thought maybe you might say sorry for making me so upset.”

  With possibly the worst timing in the world, Lord Vincent stepped into view. Looking his usual smug self, he said, “That costume suits you.”

  “Watch it, caramel yoghurt,” Shambles said.[169]

  “How very gallant of the ferret to defend your honour,” Vincent said with a sneer.

  Sickness spread through Ondine at the sight of him. As far as she was concerned, the less she had to do with him the better. “What do you want?” she asked.

  “It’s, ‘What do you want, My Lord’, to you.”

  Ondine closed her eyes hard, but they rolled behind her lids anyway. “Fine. What do you want, my lord?” She said it in such a way that Vincent would know she hadn’t capitalised the letters.

  “I want you gone. From the moment you arrived we’ve had nothing but bad magic. The storm, the fish rain, outbreaks of food poisoning, and now the seneschal seems to know what I’m about to say before I say it. He’s always been good at anticipating people’s needs, but he’s never been able to read minds before.”

  “How can any of that be my fault?” Ondine said.

  “Because you’re a bad egg and you’re spreading bad magic wherever you go.” Vincent said, glaring at her.

  “Watch it,” Shambles said, rearing up on his hind legs and exposing his nippy wee teeth.

  Across the room, Ondine saw Hetty whisper something to Ms Kyryl. Fear spread through her at the thought that they might have overheard Shambles. Instead, Hetty and Ms Kyryl both stood up and got all fidgety. A blush stole across Hetty’s face. Nope, it wasn’t Shambles making them pay attention, it was Vincent. Hetty was ga-ga for the Duke’s son. If only she knew what he was really like!

  Vincent stood his ground. “Because of you, an entire coven of witches is demanding an audience with my father to discuss all this messy magic. Why don’t you save everyone the hassle and just leave?”

  Oh, he made her cross! “Because he wants us here, OK? You probably haven’t noticed, because you only think of yourself, but your dad’s sick and we’re trying to find out why.”

  “He was fine before you lot arrived, so if you want him to get better, you should get lost.” He looked her up and down and sneered at her costume. “If you’re not gone by the first of November, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

  With that, he sneered again and marched off. Not a moment too soon as far as Ondine was concerned. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hetty giving a dramatic sigh, as if the world’s most famous movie star had just walked by.

  “We have a saying in Scotland about people like him,” Shambles said.

  “I hope it’s rude.”

  “Waste of time if it’s not.”

  Ondine laughed and tried to look on the bright side. “Maybe he’s right? Maybe we should go home.”

  “And leave all this? I don’t know about ye Ondi, but I’m loaving it. First real job I’ve had in years. I’ve never felt so useful or important. Each week I’m on a different watch, it’s so exciting.”

  “But . . . my parents would give you a job just like that.” She clicked her fingers. She also thought, And you’re important to me, but couldn’t say it over the lump in her throat.

  “But that wouldnae be a proper job, not really. More like a family obligation. And I thought ye liked me being responsible?”

  Mist covered Ondine’s eyes.

  “Aw, naw, hen, dinnae cry. I’m truly sorry fer upsetting ye. And I know the teacher is giving ye a hard time, but I’m not sorry fer getting ye the answers. It was the only way tae save ye from being sent home.”

  “But . . . we should have thought of something else.”

  “I know. But there wasnae time. I felt lower than a worm when I saw how much I’d let ye down.”

  “Thank you.” Ondine wiped away a tear of gratitude.

  “Now the Duke knows yer working fer the Infanta, Ms Kyryl can’t bother ye no more. I’m proud of ye, hen. There’s bound to be plenty ye can tell the Duke about his mad sister, no?”

  “No. That’s the problem.” Ondine felt her spirits sagging. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “Sure, there must be. That Infanta, she’s always up tae something.”

  “I wish I shared your confidence.”

  Some reassuring kisses would have come in handy at this point, but her true love remained a Shambles-ferret.

  “As much as we cannae stand Vincent, he had a point. There has been some strange magic round these parts,” Shambles said.

  “Strange doesn’t begin to cover it. This place is off-the-scale weird. And have you heard the children sing? They used to sound like mangled cows, but now they’re amazing.”

  “Aye, true. And have ye seen what Ms Kyryl’s having fer lunch?”

  “It’s disgusting.”

  Across the room, Ms Kyryl finished eating her sandwich and began wrapping slices of salami around wedges of apple. Nearby, the rest of the school children scoffed their lunches. They sure were eating plenty. Maybe the cold weather made them hungry? If they hadn’t all had their dose of worming medicine, the Duchess would be convinced they were infested with parasites. Hetty held her bowl of food up to her mouth and shovelled it in like she was starving.

  Everyone ate so noisily Ondine and Shambles could continue their conversation without being overheard.

  “I bet you’ve been giving the Duke plenty of information about Vincent,” Ondine said to him.

  Shambles shifted on his paws, as if the floor were made of lava. He looked up and swallowed, his accent full of remorse. “Apart from the obvious, that he’s a total pillock, I goat nothing.”

  “You can’t have ‘nothing’?”

  Shambles climbed on to her lap, but kept his voice low. “I know, I’m shocked as weil. It was a total bust. I snuck around fer ages, listening as hard as I could. I tried going through diaries, but there was nothing. I thought I might get something when the Duchess arrived in his rooms. She talked with him for a while, but I swear they said nothing incriminating. The most she’s ever said is, “One day all this will be yours, ye need tae be ready”, but that’s it. I thought she’d say more, but she didnae.”

  “They know we’re on to them. Tell me, Shambles, when you were listening, did you see them, or were you hiding?”

  “I was hiding, of course.”

  “Right. So maybe they were saying one thing, but it meant something else. Or maybe they were passing notes and you didn’t see it?”

  “Yer a smart girl. Ye can see why I need ye here to help make sense of all this. Nice costume by the way.�
�

  Ondine ignored the compliment, because she felt so ungainly. “He must be planning something.” She wondered if she were being suspicious merely because she couldn’t stand Vincent, or if something really was going on. “If you’ve got nothing, what are we going to tell the Duke? You’re going to have to find out something.”

  The Duke had threatened that they would all be sent home if they didn’t get more information. A gleam of hope flickered in Ondine’s mind – she would go back to her old school, where the lessons made sense and they wouldn’t make her dress as a lumpy vegetable. Except then Hamish wouldn’t be happy working for her parents in the pub. Why could nothing be simple?

  “Eh ... we might have tae tell him about the Duchess’s secret stash,” Shambles said.

  “I’d hold off on that. He doesn’t like to hear bad things about her. Did you see his face when I talked about Draguta? If it came down to it, he’d take his wife’s side over ours. And there’s no point telling him Kerala drinks too much because everyone knows it, he just can’t see it,” Ondine said.

  “Aye, it’s a real shame when people can’t see what’s right in front of them,” Shambles said.

  “Children, places, please,” Ms Kyryl called out.

  Ondine swayed to her feet and flumped out her costume to get it back into proper cabbage shape.

  “Unless,” Shambles piped up, “yer sure ye havenae goat anything on the Infanta? Sure and she’d be worth something?”

  Heavy guilt weighed her down. “The Infanta declared she’d love to push the Duchess down the stairs. But I’m sure she was only wishing out loud.”

  “Aye, there’s bad blood between those two.”

  “You’ve got that right. But . . . I want to keep that between us for now,” Ondine said.

  “Aw nae! Don’t tell me yer starting tae like her now?”

  How could she explain her feelings when she didn’t even understand them herself? “Kind of. I mean . . . she’s not all that bad once you get to know her.”