Ondine

The Summer of Shambles

E
BONY
M
C
K
ENNA

EGMONT

We bring stories to life

Ondine: The Summer of Shambles
first published in Great Britain 2010
by Egmont UK Limited
239 Kensington High Street
London W8 6SA

Text copyright © Ebony McKenna 2010
Cover photograph: Dimitri Vervitsiotis
Photographer's Choice RF/Getty Images

The moral rights of the author and cover illustrator have been asserted

First e-book edition 2011
ISBN 978 17803 1011 4

www.egmont.co.uk

3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Dedicated to the memory of Frank Muir, a true gentleman and kind mentor.

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

About Brugel

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Acknowledgements

About the Author

BRUGEL
(pron. Broo-gl) Officially
The Serene Duchy of Brugel.
Brugel is a small country in eastern Europe. It has a single house of parliament, called ‘the Dentate' (the place with teeth). The First Minister is the head of government. The Duke of Brugel is the head of state.

Brugel is at the crossroads of old and new Europe. Previously part of the USSR, Brugel declared independence in 1991 and shares its borders with Slaegal to the north and east, Craviç to west and the Black Sea to the south. The capital and largest city is Venzelemma. The Brugel language is derived from an earlier form of English. This came about after many Jutes, Angles and Saxons took a wrong turn in the fifth century and found themselves at the Black Sea.

Brugel has survived through many hardships, having been annexed into the Constantine, Austro-Hungarian, Prussian and Holy Roman empires at various – and mercifully short – times in history. In the 1950s Soviet tanks often rumbled through the main streets of Venzelemma – on their way to somewhere else.

Any rumours you may have heard about Brugel are probably true. All psychics and mediums can trace their DNA to the foothills of Brugel. The countryside is the birthplace of gypsy folklore, and fairy tales and talking animals are interwoven in daily life. This is a country where the strange and unusual are not only tolerated, they are encouraged.

T
his is a great story, and like a good many great stories before it, it begins with a teenage girl. Her name is Ondine de Groot and she is fifteen. She has long dark hair past her shoulders, which is neat for about five minutes before it gets messy and stringy. Her eyes are dark brown and pretty, except when she's rolling them. She also adores small animals, of which you will hear more in a moment.

Ondine's story begins exactly twelve years ago today, in a place called Brugel,
¹
a pretty country in eastern Europe which is well known for its old
buildings.
²
On the day this story begins, Ondine was nearing the end of her time at Psychic Summercamp. As the name suggests, Psychic Summercamp is a place for students to spend their holidays developing their psychic and other extra-sensory skills. In some countries, students spend their holidays at adventure camp, fat camp or mathletics. In Brugel, they do things differently.

Back to Ondine. She is in a dormitory with three other girls (who are asleep on account of it being so early in the morning) and she's just woken with a jolt.

‘Saturn's rings! It's six o'clock! I've slept through the astral projection exam.' Ondine sat up and pushed the covers away. The bed's throw fell to the floor, smothering the furry black ferret that lay curled up on a patch of rug beneath.

‘Melody, wake up,' she said, nudging the sleeping girl in the bunk above her. ‘What happened in the astral exam?'

It took Melody a few more nudges to wake up. Yawning, she swiped her mousy-blonde hair from her face, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and inspected it, then stopped as she realised she had an audience.

‘Ah, sorry.' Melody looked embarrassed as she blinked herself awake. ‘What's going on, what time is it? The sun isn't even up.' The psychic lessons didn't seem to have worked very well on her either.

‘Shh, you'll wake the others,' Ondine said. ‘Now, quick, what happened in the astral?'

‘I . . . I don't know. I must have slept through it!' Melody's face crumpled and she made ready to cry. ‘I'm going to fail, aren't I?'

‘Don't worry, I'll fail more than you.' As Ondine looked around the room, she spotted the handle of her suitcase poking out from under her bed. It gave her an idea. ‘This entire thing is a waste of time, and a waste of our summer holidays. I'm going to run away to home.'

A great many girls of Ondine's age would love to run away
from
home, but Ondine was the other way around. She'd had it up to here (hold your hand at
eyebrow level) with the whole psychic thing and knew it was time to quit.

While Melody watched the door for teachers, Ondine packed up her clothes and her gimgaws
³
and doohickie whatsits and zipped the case closed.

‘Shouldn't you tell Mrs Howser you're leaving?' Melody asked.

‘Pfft. She's the psychic one, why should I bother?' Ondine looked at the sleeping forms of her remaining roommates. ‘You can tell the other two when they wake up.'

‘How will you get home?' Melody asked.

Valid question. Psychic Summercamp was located on the outskirts of Brugel's capital city, Venzelemma, and Ondine's family lived right over on the other side.

‘There's a bus stop down the end of the street, so I'll take that to central station. Then I'll get the train the rest of the way home.' Ondine sounded rather pleased with her plan as she lifted the throw off the ferret and folded it into a messy rectangle-ish shape on
the end of her bed. The throw, not the animal. Ferrets don't fold so well.

‘What about Shambles?' Melody asked, looking at the sleeping animal on the ground.

Oh dear. Ondine hadn't given much thought to the ferret, because she didn't think the creature should be coming with her. Ondine was more your fluffy kitten-y type of girl, so she hadn't given much attention this morning to the long and skinny bundle of black. Turning up at home, unannounced, before Summercamp finished would give her family enough of a fright. Turning up unannounced with a weasel in her hands might finish her mother right off.

‘He's a sweet thing, and he's really taken to you.' Melody's eyes were bright with possibilities.

‘You're right,' Ondine agreed.

During the weeks at camp, Ondine and Shambles the ferret had become unlikely buddies. He'd turned up one day
⁴
and made himself at home, following Ondine about. He'd even come to classes with her. The
thought of abandoning the little fella to the craziness of Summercamp and Mrs Howser made something twist in her tummy. Probably guilt. A bit of hunger too.

Then Shambles the ferret woke up, spun around a few times and stood up on his hind legs, looking like an elongated, begging puppy. If puppies had pointy noses, long whiskers and sharp teeth.

‘And nobody else got a pet while they were here,' Melody said. ‘You were really lucky.'

Hmmm, what to do? It wouldn't be right to leave him here.

‘I'll take him with me and find him a good home,' Ondine said, scooping up the creature and tucking him into the crook of her arm. ‘Shambles, you're going to have to behave yourself or I'll leave you on the bus.' It was her way of trying to sound stroppy. The little fella was pretty cute once you got to know him.

And that's how Ondine came to leave Psychic Summercamp on that warm summer's morning, with a ferret wrapped around her neck like a scarf and the scent of geraniums and lavender in her nostrils as she walked along the flower-studded footpath to the
bus stop. The wind blew her hair in wild directions, whipping at her lips and eyes. There was nothing she could do to prevent it; she needed both hands to carry her heavy case. Not even a spare hand for Shambles – he hung on to her collar.

It wasn't until Ondine got off the bus and reached Venzelemma's crowded central train station that the ferret spoke.

‘Thank gooniss for tha–, I'm all bumpy and broke,' Shambles said with a deep Scottish accent, then climbed on to her head to get a better view. ‘Progress! The train'll be here in a minute. When we get tae yer hoose we can eet, I'm fair starven.'

Ondine gasped and dropped her case on the platform in shock. Because, make no mistake about it, there was definitely a man's voice coming from the ferret. Quickly, she found a place to sit down, then she hauled Shambles into her hands to have a good look at him, all the time wondering if she'd gone a bit . . . funny.

‘I've lost my mind,' Ondine said. A furtive look around told her nobody else was paying them any
attention. The station was full of grey-looking people heading off to work for the day, completely unaware of the teenage girl with scruffy brown hair holding a black ferret.