‘Thanks,’ the twins chorused, catching their sweets with the ease of seasoned cricketers. Max wondered how Fitz knew they were there in the first place.
‘Why don’t you have a look around?’ Fitz said. ‘There are four floors and your bedrooms are up on the next level. I’ll go and see what Song’s been up to, but if my nose tells me anything, there should be soup for lunch and cake for afternoon tea and I know I’m starving.’
Kensy and her brother charged upstairs, where they located two bedrooms each with their own en suites. One of them was decorated in cornflour blue while the other was white with splashes of red and navy.
‘Bags the blue room!’ Kensy shouted. She ran in and dumped her daypack on the floor.
‘You can have it,’ Max called, walking into the other room. He took in the stylish furnishings and immaculately made bed before turning his attention to the bookshelf, noting some of his favourite titles and a few books he’d been meaning to read.
Kensy padded in after him and picked up a Rubik’s cube from the desk. She tossed it in the air absently.
‘Don’t you think this is a bit weird?’ Max said, swivelling around to meet his sister’s gaze.
Kensy tilted her head to one side. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Do you remember the conversation we had with Mum just before she and Dad left for Africa?’ the boy said softly. ‘She asked us what colour we’d paint our rooms if we got a choice – which we never do because we’re always renting.’
Kensy thought for a moment, and her eyes widened. ‘I said cornflour blue and you said white with touches of red and navy, and I told you that you were always so predictable.’ She looked around. ‘I-I’m sure it’s just a stupid coincidence.’
Max opened the wardrobe door, which was full of clothes. They were impeccably ordered with long trousers at one end, shirts and T-shirts in the middle and coats last of all. There were brand-new shoes tucked into their own special pigeonholes. Max pulled out a pair of jeans – the exact ones he’d been begging his mum for and which she’d told him were too expensive. He looked at the size.
‘You think this is just a coincidence too then?’ he said, holding up the hanger.
‘Of course it is. Otherwise that would mean Fitz had planned all this …’ Kensy stepped forward and riffled through the rest of the clothes, noting that the colours and styles were exactly the sorts of things her brother loved. Then she raced into the other bedroom. Her wardrobe was bursting with clothes in her size and to her taste too, although there was one particularly ugly Christmas sweater with a rein deer and glowing red nose that no one could pay her to wear.
Max followed her and leaned against the doorframe. ‘Well?’
‘It’s as if they’ve have been waiting for us,’ she said quietly. ‘Why would there be bedrooms in a house owned by some lady we’ve never met that are set up just for us?’
Max swallowed hard. ‘I don’t know.’
Kensy felt a tickle in her nose and sneezed loudly. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans for a tissue and a small square piece of cardboard fluttered to the floor. She knelt down to pick it up.
‘What’s that?’ Max asked.
‘It was from one of the drawers in the tower at Alexandria. I put it in my pocket when Song sprung us,’ she said guiltily. ‘I didn’t mean to keep it, but I forgot. I didn’t even look at it.’
Max took it from her and together they read the contents of the certificate from Jindabyne Central School.
Maxim Grey, for outstanding work in Mathematics
‘Why would this have been at the house?’ Max asked. ‘Did you see what else was in that drawer?’
Kensy shrugged. ‘Maybe Fitz bundled up our things and sent them to the house to be stored. It’s not as if they don’t have the room and, let’s face it, we move all the time.’
‘Look at the date,’ Max said. ‘I only received this the day before we left. The original is still in my bag. I was going to show Mum and Dad when we saw them … Why would Fitz send copies of our certificates to Alexandria?’
Kensy’s mind was racing so fast she was beginning to feel dizzy. ‘Come on,’ she said, snatching back the piece of cardboard, ‘let’s go and see what he has to say about this.’
‘Wait.’ Max grabbed her arm. ‘Think about it, Kens. Fitz never told us about his mother and we don’t know much at all about Dame Spencer. We woke up in a mansion in England that we’ve never heard anything about and now we’re here in London in these bedrooms with clothes and things just for us. I don’t think we can trust anyone – at least not until Mum and Dad come back.’
‘Not even Fitz?’ Kensy bit her lip. ‘What if Mum and Dad don’t come back?’
Max looked at her. ‘We can’t think like that. We promised.’
His sister nodded. ‘It’s so hard. I try not to imagine the worst, but then my brain goes into overdrive and I think: what if they’ve been captured? Or they’re being held for ransom? There are pirates off the coast of Africa, Max.’
Kensy looked around at the perfect room. Like her brother’s, the bookshelves were full of stories she loved and some she hadn’t yet read. Even the cushions in the middle of her queen-sized bed reminded her of some she and her mother had recently admired in a catalogue. Kensy’s eyes fell upon a notepad on the bedside table. She walked over to take a closer look, her heart skipping a beat when she realised the motif was of characters from a book she had long adored. The words below them formed a phrase she and her mother often said to one another, especially when Kensy wasn’t quite feeling herself.
‘Look,’ she said, tears welling in her eyes. She tore off the page and showed it to her brother.
‘How much do I love you?’ Max read aloud.
‘To the sun and stars and back again,’ Kensy recited from memory. Hope swelled in her chest. ‘It’s a sign from Mum. I’m sure of it.’ She ran to the window, pushing it up then leaning out to look up and down the street.
‘Stop and listen to yourself, Kens. It doesn’t make any sense,’ Max reasoned. Now was not the time for one of his sister’s flights of fancy.
Kensy turned back to face him. ‘No, but neither does that merit certificate nor the way Fitz has been acting or anything much that’s happened in the past thirty-six hours,’ she insisted, a determined look in her eyes.
‘Kids, lunch is ready,’ Fitz called up the stairs.
‘I think we should find out some more about Dame Spencer,’ Max said, quickly shutting the window. ‘But let’s keep this to ourselves for the time being, okay?’
Kensy nodded and stuffed the note into her jeans pocket.
‘You two okay?’ Fitz said, appearing at the door. He glanced from one twin to the other.
‘Yes,’ they answered in unison, earning a quizzical look from their manny.
Max suddenly saw that the certificate was sitting on Kensy’s desk in plain view. He dove towards it and pushed it under a decorative box. ‘Thought I saw a cockroach,’ the boy mumbled.
‘Really? I can get some spray,’ Fitz said.
‘It’s okay,’ Max said. ‘We lived in Australia – nothing in England could be as bad as some of the bugs there.’
Fitz grinned in reply, though he hadn’t missed a thing and wondered what the boy had been so desperate to hide from him. He made a note to check under the box later. ‘So do you like your rooms?’ he asked.
‘They couldn’t be more … perfect,’ Max said, flashing him a smile.
‘Oh … good,’ Fitz said, smiling back. ‘I can’t take any of the credit. Song arranged everything. I know he went to great pains to get some clothes and knick-knacks he thought you might like.’
Kensy shared a look with Max. ‘Song did all this?’
Fitz nodded. ‘He’s a man of many talents and looking after guests is his specialty. Speaking of which, Song has made us a delicious batch of soup. It’s –’
‘Let me guess,’ Max jumped in. ‘Pumpkin?’
‘With a hint of
ginger?’ Kensy added. She folded her arms across her chest.
‘Uh … yes.’ Fitz frowned. ‘How did you know?’
‘Oh, just a guess,’ Kensy replied, and followed Max out of the room.
Either Song was a mind-reader or there was something much stranger going on.
‘Song doesn’t have to come and get us this afternoon,’ Max said. He turned to Fitz, who was walking behind him and Kensy. ‘We’re more than capable of making our own way home. We’re eleven, not seven.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ Fitz said. Although he knew the lad was right, he wasn’t prepared to take any risks. There was too much at stake.
‘What time are you leaving?’ Kensy asked. She clutched the piece of notepaper she’d put into the pocket of her uniform.
‘As soon as you two are safely deposited at school,’ Fitz replied. ‘But it will take me a couple of days to get there, so don’t expect to hear anything right away.’
Max looked over at his sister, half expecting her to spill the beans on what they’d found yesterday. He was impressed she’d kept it to herself for so long, considering they’d spent the late afternoon with Fitz seeing some sights around the city. They’d driven past Buckingham Palace and Trafalgar Square and taken a spin on the London Eye. While it was exciting to see London, both children found themselves thinking how much more fun it would be if their parents were there too.
As they neared the school, Kensy slowed to a crawl. ‘Um, Fitz?’ she said in the coy manner she used for getting her own way. ‘We’re going to miss you lots, but you really don’t need to walk us all the way to the gate.’
Fitz stopped on the footpath in surprise, then noticed the girl looking shyly around at the students milling past them. ‘What? You don’t want me to lick my fingers and clean your faces at the gate?’ he teased.
Kensy wrinkled her nose. ‘Ew! I remember when you did that to me outside my nursery school in Banff. That horrible boy … I can’t remember his name …’
‘Jacob,’ Max said, without glancing up from his Rubik’s cube. He’d already solved it twenty-six times that morning but was eager to beat his fastest time of two minutes and ten seconds.
‘That’s right. After he saw you do it once, he would lick his fingers and try to wipe them on me whenever he thought he might get away with it,’ Kensy said, shuddering at the memory.
‘All right,’ Fitz relented. ‘Have a good day. Song will be here this afternoon. Just for today, I promise,’ he said, when he spotted Kensy’s scowl. ‘I’m sure you’ll be fine to walk on your own tomorrow.’ He smiled, but there was a tightness in his face. ‘So I don’t suppose you want a hug then?’
Avoiding his sister’s gaze, Max went in for a squeeze. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone – least of all himself – but he was afraid that he might never see Fitz again.
‘Try to enjoy it, mate,’ Fitz said, ruffling the boy’s hair. ‘And no worrying, Kensy.’
‘Be safe,’ she said, giving him a quick hug too.
With a wink and a wave goodbye, Fitz turned to leave. Max took off towards the school gate and was almost there when he realised Kensy wasn’t beside him. She was still standing where Fitz had left them, staring across the street.
Kensy watched as a round woman with a cigarette trailing smoke from her left hand passed an envelope each to two ladies. It was the same trio they’d seen outside the newsagency the afternoon before, but this morning they were standing in the forecourt of a block of red-brick flats across from the school.
‘I see Fitz’s girlfriends are at it again,’ Kensy mumbled to herself.
The woman with the walking stick was wearing a thick tartan coat and had a scarf on her head. Kensy caught a glimpse of the rollers underneath and grinned. This time they weren’t squabbling – just shivering, by the looks of them. She wondered what was in the envelopes. Bingo winnings or maybe they liked to exchange recipes. The girl’s imagination was off and racing when her brother’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
‘Come on, Kensy, we’ll be late,’ Max said, running back to fetch her.
‘And that’s the last thing you’d want to be on your first day,’ said a clipped voice from behind them.
The twins turned to see a tall, thin woman with a tangle of dark, curly hair.
‘Romilly Vanden Boom, Science,’ she barked by way of introduction. ‘Now, if I were you two, I’d get a move along. Mr MacGregor’s a stickler for punctuality, and you have an assembly to get to.’
She charged through the surge of students, who all seemed to be arriving at exactly the same time.
The twins were swept in through the front doors of reception, where Mrs Potts gave them a grin and a wave despite the dozen students competing for her attention.
‘Gee, she’s lovely,’ Kensy said. ‘I think she actually smiles sunshine.’
Max grunted in reply. His eyes were all over the place, taking everything in as they were carried to their lockers on the tide of students. Kensy stopped in front of hers while Max continued further down to his.
Kensy was wrestling with her padlock when she suddenly felt a sharp dig in her left rib cage. ‘Ow!’ she yelped, and spun around, intending to give the culprit a good talking-to.
A girl with long dark hair piled on top of her head closed her locker door. ‘Newbie alert,’ she sang to the girl beside her, who giggled. They looked older than Kensy, although perhaps it was just the full faces of make-up they had on. The dark-haired girl turned to Kensy and raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. ‘So who are you?’
Forgetting herself, Kensy squeaked her full name.
‘Really?’ The girl smiled, but it wasn’t a sweet one like Mrs Potts’s. ‘Your name’s Kensington? That’s so funny because mine’s Mayfair and hers is Knightsbridge. Apparently, everyone at this school is named after a posh part of London.’
‘Oh, stop it, Lola,’ a tiny voice chirped. ‘There’s really no need for you to give every single person who starts at this school a hard time, is there? And you can zip it too, Misha.’
Lola narrowed her ice-blue eyes at the girl. ‘Can’t you take a joke, Autumn? Then again, you’d know exactly what it’s like to have a ridiculous name. Thank goodness my mother called me something sensible.’
‘Are you joking? Your surname is Lemmler.’ Autumn rolled her eyes. ‘Try saying that ten times without tripping over your tongue.’
Lola’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re so mean!’ she spat, then looped her arm through Misha’s and flicked her fringe back across her eyes before the pair sloped off down the hall.
The smaller girl turned to Kensy. ‘Ignore those two. Lola hates new kids as a rule, especially if they’re smarter or prettier than her, and Misha’s never had an original thought in her life. As you probably heard, I’m Autumn, and I assume you’re Kensington. It’s good to meet you.’
‘Hi. Kensy’s fine,’ the girl said, hugging her books to her chest. She wasn’t used to anyone defending her like that, except for Max on the odd occasion. It was usually up to Kensy to deal with the mean kids and, having lived all over the world, experience taught her there was one or two in every school. It was kind of nice not having to be the tough one for a change. She smiled at the girl. ‘Thanks for that, by the way. And don’t worry, I promise I can give as good as I get.’
Autumn was quite a bit shorter than Kensy and was what her mother would have described as immaculate. Her glossy black hair was pulled into a low ponytail and tied with a red satin ribbon the same shade as their school jumper. Her fingernails were filed into neat crescent moons and her skin was like caramel milk. She wore smart red-rimmed spectacles and was carrying a small pile of books.
Further down the hallway, Max had completely missed the drama, having enjoyed a civilised conversation with a lad called Carlos. The pair walked over and introduced themselves and, before they knew it, another five kids had joined their huddle.
Autumn pointed at each of them. ‘This is Harper, Dante, Inez, Yasmina and Sachin. Our new fri
ends are Kensington and Maxim, but they prefer Kensy and Max.’
There was a laugh followed by a swift round of hellos.
Kensy liked the way Autumn introduced her and Max as their new friends, as if it were a foregone conclusion. She was silently repeating their names in her head and memorising things about them. Harper was blonde with the palest blue eyes; her hair fell in loose ringlets framing her heart-shaped face. Dante was tall and dark with chestnut hair. Inez had a smattering of freckles across her nose and a sweep of long copper curls. Yasmina’s chocolate eyes were almond-shaped and she had an aquiline nose and a navy headscarf, and Sachin was olive-skinned with black hair and eyelashes to die for.
‘We’d better get to the hall or Magoo will make a spectacle of us all,’ Autumn said, eyeing her watch.
‘You don’t really think he’d get the canons out again, do you?’ Dante said with a pained expression.
Kensy blinked in alarm. ‘Canons! You’re joking, right?’
‘Have you met our headmaster?’ Sachin grinned. ‘He’s as mad as a hatter. Just wait until you see what he gets up to.’
Harper shrugged. ‘At least school is never dull.’
Kensy and Max looked at one another. It sounded as if Central London Free School was going to be far more interesting than they’d first imagined.
Kensy and Max found themselves in the middle of the front row of the hall between their new friends. Despite the promise of a spectacle, they were lulled into a glassy-eyed state by a litany of announcements. A teacher dressed in a red-and-navy tracksuit talked about an upcoming football competition. Autumn whispered to Kensy that his name was Mr Nutting and he was an Olympic archer. Following on were notices about debating, a fundraiser and auditions for a play before Mr MacGregor took to the podium.
He regaled the assembly with a blow-by-blow account of his golf game the previous weekend, including re-enactments of his swing and stumbling down an embankment, which had everyone guessing as to what point he was trying to make – or whether he just really liked talking about golf. After what seemed a very long time, he did relate the game back to the idea of challenging oneself against any perceived handicaps. His joyous mood turned decidedly dark thereafter as he disintegrated into a rant about laziness and lack of direction.
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