Time to retreat to the foyer.
“There you are!” Melody said, out of nowhere. Ruslana was standing beside her.
Ondine jumped, her pulse beating a tattoo in her brain. “I didn’t hear you,” and she patted her chest and laughed to show how silly she was. That should be enough to disguise how guilty she really was.
Melody embraced Ondine. “Are you all right?”
“Err, just feeling off colour, because of the, um, you know, the cheeseballs.” Best lie ever.
“Why don’t you stay with us for the night?” Melody asked. “We’ll have a lovely time catching up. It’s been so long since we’ve done that.”
This was a completely different Melody from the love-struck misery she’d argued with back at the family pub. “Oh, you don’t want me cluttering up the place. I’m too tense about tonight, I’ll be a mess when Margibelle come on.” Not a lie.
Ruslana quirked the corner of her mouth upwards. “Is that the only reason why you’re tense?”
“Well . . . ” Ondine looked at her feet. Come on brain.
Nothing.
“Stay with us,” Ruslana said, “we’re going to watch the show from the hotel balcony. We have the best view of the big screen.”
“Maybe um,” she started again, fighting a sickening sense of panic that they would tie her up for the rest of the evening. Then a really, really good idea came to her. “Actually, perhaps we can catch up another time. Hamish is in the plaza and um,” she felt herself blushing deeply, which reflected how she really felt, but also gave her enormous relief that her lie held a massive dollop of truth, “this is kind of the only privacy we’ve had for the longest time.”
Ruslana and Melody made an ‘O’ with their mouths and blushed right along with her, before smirking behind their hands.
“Be good. Be safe,” Melody said with a wink.
“Of course,” Ondine replied, blushing even more furiously.
“Wait a minute,” Melody looked her up and down. “You’re not feeling funny in the tummy because you’re –”
“– No way!” Ondine cut her off, then dropped her voice. “No, it’s not that. Definitely not that.”
“OK, well, be good, you hear?” Melody said.
“Yes ma’am,” Ondine gave Melody and Ruslana a quick salute and headed back to the bathroom to:
a) breathe
b) laugh
c) buy time and work out how to get the camera out of the hotel’s planter pots without anyone seeing her.
Sickly heat threatened to leap out of her mouth as Ondine waited for as long as she could in the bathroom. Hands slippery with fear-sweat, she stepped as quietly as she could towards the greenery. The seats were empty. At last! Something had gone her way! She wiped the coconut fibres off the camera. It was switched off. Had someone seen it and messed with it? Had it reached the end of the tape and switched itself off?
Desperate to review the footage, but doubly-desperate not to be sprung sneaking about with a camera, she slotted it into her coat pocket. Please let there be something on this. Just as she turned around the plants, Hamish appeared.
“Ah! You scared me!” Like she wasn’t tightly wound enough!
“Sorry hen, but I was worried about ye. Ye’ve been gone so long and I lost sight of ye.”
“You’ve been looking out for me?” Harp music played in her head and her heart soared.
“Of course I have,” he kissed her for good measure. It was a really good measure. Then he tilted his forehead against hers and lowered his voice. “I saw Valentin leave, so I think we’re safe. Col’s gone to the dance hall already, she said she needed time to get dressed.”
“Goody.” They were unchaperoned. This earned a properly lovely kiss on the lips, which sent sweet shivers all the way through to her toes. She needed kisses like this, they were all-too-rare these days with Hamish spending a third of his life as a ferret.
Life was crazy, Brugel was crazy, her family was crazy. Ondine didn’t even know what extra crazy tomorrow might bring. But one thing she did know for sure; in the midst of all the craziness, she and Hamish would still be together. They belonged together, and she’d do whatever it took to make sure they’d stay together. If their attempts to disrupt Vincent from his claim to the throne failed, and she was starting to suspect that they would, no matter what happened, she’d have Hamish.
And he’d have her.
Which lead to another, not altogether welcoming thought. They’d come too far on this crazy journey to go back to the way things used to be. Then a truth-bomb hit. They couldn’t ‘go back’ to the way things were, even if they tried. Only now did. Ondine realise she and Hamish had to keep going. They’d do their best to stop Vincent, even if it meant going down in a big screaming heap. Because even if they failed, and that was looking like the most probable outcome, at least Ondine would know that she and Hamish had tried their hardest to stop him.
Together they walked further down the street to find another cafe – they’d lost their spots from before, as the crowds grew even more crowded in Savo Plaza – to grab a seat and check through the camera’s little rectangular screen for anything usable.
“If you want to sit here, you have to buy something,” the samovari said. [331] He had that tired look of someone who had to repeat himself all the time.
“Two teas, no sugar.” Hamish said.
“Sugar’s on the table anyway,” the samovari said.
Ondine begged the heavens she’d captured something useful.
“You can clearly see it’s Valentin,” Hamish said. “You’re amazing.”
“Your teas,” the samovari turned up with a tray loaded with hot cups of deep brown liquid with floating slices of lemon.
Thanks,” she said absently as she kept looking at the small picture, wondering how it could help them at all. “Saturn’s rings!” She nearly knocked her tea over in excitement. “Look, they’ve giving him something in an envelope.”
“It’s goat to be loaded with cash, hen. Ye’ve got him.”
“It’s not enough.” She worried her bottom lip against her teeth as she kept playing the footage. “We can’t see who’s giving him the envelope of money.”
“Mebbe they get up in a wee bit and we’ll see their faces?” As he said it, the three men in the image did indeed rise from their seats, their business transaction over. As they rose, they stood out of frame, so their heads weren’t visible any more.
“I’m going to have to swear,” Ondine said. “Really, properly scream and swear.” But to make a liar out of herself, she buried her head in her hands, clamped her eyes shut and clenched her lips together.
“We havnae failed, yet,” Hamish said as he rubbed her back in gentle circles. “Let’s have another look and see if there’s anything we’ve missed.”
“And then I can swear?” Ondine said behind her hands.
“Aye, I’ll teach ye a whole new set.”
Sniffing, Ondine dragged her sleeve over her face, then set to making her tea sweet enough. She fished out the slice of lemon and added in two teaspoons of sugar. In her frazzled state, it wasn’t enough. Two more teaspoons swiftly followed. Perfect.
If only a cup of tea could fix the sick feeling of failure coating her like a damp blanket. Deep in her bones she knew Lord Vincent was going to take over the country tonight. This tiny bit of footage was her only weapon against him.
“Let’s have another look. Here’s Valentin,” Hamish said, replaying the footage. “And then we see Vincent give him the money.”
“That’s not Vincent, that’s Babak,” Ondine said. “He was sitting closer to the wall.”
“Aye, so his hand is the one covered in bling.”
A true observation, the man had chunky gold rings on every finger.
“That’s Vincent now, shaking Valentin’s hand,” Ondine said with a heavy sigh.
“Wait a minute, is there a zoom on this? Aye, here it is. Let’s get a closer look.”
Each pre
ss of the zoom button made the centre of the picture larger, showing a familiar hand. “It’s blue!” Ondine squealed.
“Way hey!”
Pure joy spun like a tornado through Ondine as she bounced up and down on her seat. Hamish threw his arms around her and kissed her all over.
“Ye did it lass, ye goat him!”
“Are you going to order more tea or what?” The samovari asked.
“Later,” Hamish said as he pushed his chair back and drew Ondine to her feet. He kissed her solidly on the lips and said, “You’re amazing.”
When they eventually stopped kissing, reality snapped back into focus. It was dark and Savo Plaza was packed with people, many of them had blue hands and carried the Brugelish hexagonal flag. Some wore the flag like a cape, tied at the neck, which pushed patriotism over the line towards ranty-nationalism.
A column of drummers and Fort Kluff cadets marched past. In the distance, a clock ‘bonged’ five times.
“Let’s get to Old Col,” Ondine said, grabbing Hamish’s hand and leading them down a side street towards the direction of the ballroom. “We can’t be late for the abnormal formal.”
Running nearly the whole way, they reached the ballroom with lungs fit to burst. Fire and cramps greeted every breath Ondine dragged into her throat. “Haveto (gasp) find Anath (gulp) ea and show her (wheeze) the tape of Valentin.”
“Aw naw hen,” Hamish pulled up sharply. “She’s already dancing with him in the ballroom.”
How did he get back here so quickly? Ondine wondered. He must have had a car.
“I’d best get changed, sharpish,” Hamish said, then disappeared into the gentlemen’s rooms.
Like magic, he reappeared moments later in his formal clothes.
Old Col spotted them and came over. “I thought you’d never get here,” she said to Hamish, while giving only the briefest nod to acknowledge Ondine. “I’ve waited a long time for this, I’m going to have my dance with Hamish.”
It would be beyond rude to take this moment from Collette Romano, who had waited decades to right this old wrong.
Hamish, looking resplendent, guided her to the dance floor and they twirled and danced with charm and grace.
Last time they’d been here, the dance hall defined ‘shabby chic’.
Now, filled with people dressed in their finery, it came to life.
Flower vases on pedestals added glamour and life.
A chandelier twinkled and sparkled, casting bubbles of light around the room.
The walls were festooned with streamers and rosettes, adding colour and vibrancy.
Couples danced, their skirts and suit tails swishing and swaying with fairytale elegance.
I’ll give you two minutes, Ondine thought. Then we’d better get on with our mission.
As if psychic – and there was every chance the elder witch had that ability – Old Col and Hamish approached Ondine about one minute and fifty seconds later.
Old Col said, “Thank you, Ondine and Hamish, for allowing me this lovely dream.”
Tears welled up in Old Col’s eyes, as she turned to her dance partner. “Hamish, you’ve made an old woman very happy. I forgave you a long time ago, but now you’ve truly redeemed yourself at last.”
“Aye. This is how it should have been all those years ago. But if you hadn’t cursed me and turned me into a ferret, I wouldn’t have found my true love Ondi.”
Old Col smiled with serenity, as if everything was right with the world. Then her faced snapped back and it was all business. “Right, moment’s over, what’s next?”
Hamish said, “Ondi’s captured brilliant evidence of Vincent on tape. We need to show it to Anathea.”
“Well then, we’d better show her.” Col said. “I suggest we dance close to her, then swap partners so I’ll dance with Valentin and you dance with Anathea. Guide her down here to the kitchen so Ondine can show her the tape.”
Her great auntie had snapped into commander-in-chief-mode. Ondine liked it. “Sounds like a plan!”
Hamish and Old Col twirled closer and closer to Anathea and Valentin. They took light steps, making it look effortless as they homed in. Then the switch! Old Col stepped to the side, then she and Hamish bowed to Anathea and Valentin.
Shame Hamish had his back to Ondine, she couldn’t see what he was saying, nor his expression. After a painful heartbeat of time, Anathea accepted the offer and swayed into Hamish’s arms. Auntie Col smiled, tilted her head then turned to Valentin to await his offer. [332]
Gliding across the floor, Hamish steered Anathea neatly through the guests, moving her surreptitiously towards Ondine. Meanwhile, Valentin hadn’t offered for Auntie Col’s hand. She stood in the middle of the dance floor, waiting. The expression on her face somewhere between expectant and mortified.
Ask her you clod, Ondine silently begged. A heavy ball of doubt rose in Ondine’s throat. If Old Col waited any longer, she’d turn into a statue. People were looking, craning their necks this way and that.
Then, horribly, Auntie Col made a bow to Valentin, even though he had no rank over her. Jupiter’s moons, Valentin turned his back and returned to his table. In a cloud of peach chiffon and ostrich feathers, Old Col glided towards the powder rooms. At that moment, Hamish guided Anathea into the kitchen. Oh, the camera!
“What is so important that it must be seen right away?” Anathea asked.
“It’s this, My Lord Duchess.” Ondine held the viewing screen out so she could see what they had. “I recorded it today. I’m so sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but your Valentin is taking payoffs from Babak and Vincent.”
As Anathea watched the footage her breathing became more rapid, then her face froze. For a second Ondine thought their beloved leader would flip a table and storm out.
“Valentin has been properly identified?” She asked. “It looks like him, but without my glasses I cannot be sure.”
“You wear glasses?” Ondine and Hamish asked together.
“There’s nothing wrong with wearing glasses,” Anathea said. “Although I am on the young side.”
“Yeas,” Hamish agreed with her. “Far too young to need glasses.”
“And how will people know that this is Vincent giving him the money?”
“It’s not Vincent, it’s Babak, you can tell because of all the rings on his fingers. Vincent’s the one who is shaking his hand just . . . now. See that.”
Anathea shook her head. “It’s just a hand. It cannot be proved that it’s Vincent.”
“When it zooms in, you can tell it’s him, because the hand is blue.”
The Duchess of Brugel frowned enough to make a tiny crease in her forehead. Then she took a step backwards and held the edge of the table. Grrrrk! The table skidded on the floor under Anathea’s weight. Ondine stepped in to steady her.
“It’s a horrible shock, I’m so sorry My Lordship,” Ondine said. “But we had to show it to you. You needed to know the truth.”
Steadying herself, Anathea removed some invisible lint from her sleeve and took a deep breath. Then she made a pathetic sigh and her voice came out so softly Ondine had to strain to hear her. “That lying bucket of wee. He was supposed to be helping.”
“Eh, which one, Valentin or Vincent, Me Lordship?” Hamish asked.
Anathea made a dismissive sniff. “Both of them. I should have twigged Valentin’s timing was too perfect. Same with Vincent, offering to pay for renovations, all the while he was paying for Valentin to romance the throne away from me.”
“Aye. But aside from the obvious heartbreak, it’s amazing news, wouldn’t ye say?” Hamish asked, his face full of hope. “This exposes Vincent. Once we show this to the world, nobody will trust him ever again.”
Anathea’s chin wobbled.
“We have tae find a way to play it on the big screen in the plaza tonight, then everyone will see what Vincent’s been up to, so they will,” Hamish said.
“No!” Anathea stood straight up, knocking the table backwards
again. “It cannot be played.”
“What?” Hamish and Ondine said as one.
“It is humiliating.” Anathea said. “Dear heavens, I will be laughed at. I will be derided. I will be seen to have no judgement. No, it cannot be played. You are expressly forbidden.”
The figurative plates Ondine had been spinning on bendy poles came crashing around her. “But if people don’t see it, Vincent will win.”
“I won’t be held to ridicule,” Anathea protested.
Old Col joined in, having clearly heard a fair bit of the conversation. “Then say the footage is yours, My Lordship. Tell Brugel you managed to catch Vincent doing these horrible things.”
Anathea’s chin wobbled again. “Because horrible things are being done to me! I am being taken for a fool!”
“Naw hen, not like that. You’ll be the messenger, and if ye sell it right, folks’ll think you were on to Valentin the whole time.” Hamish said.
Had he just called The Duchess of Brugel ‘hen’?
Silence passed between them, before Anathea finally said, “You want me to get on stage, in front of everyone, and say my suspicions were confirmed and Vincent cannot be trusted?”
“Yes,” Ondine nodded.
“That will not do,” Anathea said. “Vincent needs to be spoken to. I will go to him at once.”
“He wilnae listen,” Hamish said with a headshake.
“What about the rest of the debutante ball?” Old Col asked.
Ondine said, “We can tell the orchestra to play faster.”
Colour draining from her face, Anathea said, “Would it be terribly unducal of me to have a quick puke?”
IF THE ONLY WORRIES Ondine had that night were making sure Hamish danced beautifully for the entire evening, she would have been nervous. But the situation with Valentin taking bribes to fall back in love with Anathea chewed her confidence to shreds. Then there was the extra matter of stopping Vincent from taking over the country. That thought poured a fresh cup of acid into the churning washing machine of her stomach.
But most of all she had no idea how her sisters were doing at PopEuroTube because the ballroom’s kitchen, where she spent most of her time, did not have a television. She made her way to the women’s changing rooms and discovered several ladies crowded around a portable television set. Oooooh! They could catch glimpses of the acts between dance sets.
The Ondine Collection Page 70
