Ondine (5 page)

M
arguerite and the lad sprang apart, their eyes round like golf balls, mouths open in shock. It must have been serious, because Marguerite's normally perfect hair looked tousled. For a long second, it seemed like nothing would happen, but Ondine knew it was only the kind of lull that heralded something ominous, like the stillness in time between a bolt of lightning and the resulting thunder clap.

The young man stood up first, ran his hand through his short brown hair, straightened his rumpled jacket, then extended his trembling palm towards Josef to shake his hand. Josef offered nothing in return.

The lad let his hand drop, along with the expression on his face. ‘Mr de Groot, this isn't what it looks like. I have nothing but the most honourable
intentions towards your daughter.'

‘Good opening gambit,' Shambles said. ‘It'll buy him five seconds before yer da runs him through.'

‘Who are you?' Josef asked. It sounded like he was talking through gritted teeth.

‘Da, please, calm down. That's no way to treat your future son-in-law,' Marguerite pleaded.

‘My
what
?'

In the darkness, it was hard to tell, but Da's face was probably close to purple.

‘Sir,' the lad started again, holding his hand forward for the second time, which was a pretty gutsy gesture, given the circumstances. ‘My name is Thomas Berger and I would like your permission to marry your daughter Marguerite.'

A sharp intake of breath was all Ondine could manage, such was her shock. Marguerite? Engaged? Already?

‘Aw,
the nice
!' Shambles said. ‘They're in looove.'

Finally, Josef extended his hand to Thomas but it wasn't a shake. More like a death grip. An awkward silence ensued.

Everyone looked to the ground. Margi scrunched her hands in her lap.

‘I don't appreciate being kept in the dark,' Da said at last.

‘Maybe if you didn't fly off the handle all the time, we wouldn't have to keep secrets,' Margi said.

Go Margi!

‘What are you doing out here?' The voice came from the back door, and they turned as one to see Ma standing on the threshold. ‘Back inside all of you, there's work to be done. Oh, hello there, Thomas dear, how are you?'

Another sharp intake of breath made Ondine's lungs fit to burst.

‘Good thanks, Mrs G,' the young man replied. His familiar tone with Ma told everyone this relationship with Marguerite must have been going on for a while. This latest revelation left Ondine light-headed with equal portions of excitement and confusion.

‘Lovely.' Ma turned to the rest of the party. ‘Josef? In here please, I need you to tap the next keg. Margi, when you're ready you can relieve Cybelle at the bar.
Oh good, Ondine, you're here too. You can get started on the dishes piling up in the sink.'

‘This isn't finished, young lady,' Josef warned Marguerite as she headed for the relative safety of the public bar. Her father wouldn't dare upset the patrons but that didn't stop him from venting his anger in the relative quiet of the hallway. ‘This isn't finished by a long shot.'

‘Show's over, but nawt for long I bet,' Shambles said as he and Ondine headed for the kitchen, where teetering towers of greasy plates awaited. ‘I'm really warming to your da. I've met plenty like him. Such good fun. Thought he'd pop a blood vessel.'

‘Hush up, Shambles, or I'll use you as a dishcloth,' Ondine warned.

Later that night – actually, it was early the next morning – after they'd guided the last patrons out, locked the doors, mopped the floors, wiped the bar, washed the dishes, locked the takings in the safe under the kitchen floorboards and turned out the lights, everything descended into quiet.

A tense kind of quiet, judging by the looks that had passed between Marguerite and her ma, and then from Ma to Da.

Cybelle tucked her straight bob behind her ears as she helped Ondine dry and polish the last of the cutlery. ‘Wouldn't mind being a fly on the wall tonight, eh, Ondi?'

‘Good idea.' Shambles took his leave from Ondine's shoulder and disappeared in a blur of black fur up the back stairs towards their parents' quarters.

‘For once, I'm glad I'm not the oldest,' Ondine said. ‘Margi's really taking one for the team tonight.'

‘Da will get over it. He just has to get used to the fact we're not babies any more,' Cybelle said.

‘Lucky we're not Catholic, or he'd have shipped us off to the nunnery.'

‘Don't give him ideas. He'd convert us all in a heartbeat,' Cybelle said with a soft giggle.

The chink and clunk of silverware (not sterling silverware, this was the cheaper kind) muffled their conversation. In any case, Ma and Da would be too caught up in ‘the Marguerite situation' to pay them
much heed, so they could keep talking.

‘So, what's going on with you and Shambles?' Cybelle asked.

Ondine dropped her fork. ‘Wh-at do you mean?'

‘Come on, Ondi. I've seen you listening to him. He talks to you, doesn't he? And you talk back.'

Cybelle's pale brown eyes looked so dramatic under all that eyeliner and thick fringe. They positively bored into Ondine's soul. Despite her earlier brush with deceit at the Duke's house, Ondine found it impossible to lie to her sister.

‘So far only Ma and I can hear him. Ma knows who he is – he used to be a real young man once. He was the Laird of Glen Logan, and he knew Great Aunt Col, back when she was our age.'

‘You mean Witchy Woman?' Cybelle's eyes gleamed and her eyebrows disappeared under her fringe.

It was their secret name for their great aunt, not that they ever said so within adult hearing.

‘Shh, Aunty Col can get very upset when she's offended,' Ondine said, then she relayed an abridged version of how Aunty Col had treated Shambles, after
the way Shambles had behaved at the debutante ball, which only made Cybelle's eyes gleam even more.

‘So, how old is Shambles? He'd have to be eighty at least if he was around when Old Col was young.'

‘That's the lucky bit. Thanks to Old Col's spell, he hasn't a hair of grey on him, and he's so sprightly. He acts more like he's our age,' Ondine said with a shrug of her shoulders as she dried the last spoon. She picked up the cutlery and clunked it all in the drawers. ‘Phew, that's it for the night. I'm fair knackered.'

‘You're what?' Cybelle asked.

‘Just something Shambles says.'

When Ondine and Cybelle tucked themselves into their beds later that night, Shambles leapt into the room and dived for Ondine, snuggling into the warmth of her neck.

‘What are you doing, Shambles? You're supposed to sleep in the laundry,' Ondine said as his soft warm fur caressed her skin. It wasn't right to have a man in her bed, but then Shambles wasn't really a
real
man as such, so perhaps that made it OK. What with all the
shocks and revelations today, she barely knew what to think. And he wasn't really in the bed, it was more like sharing a pillow, and where was the harm in that?

‘Aye, but the laundry's mockit.
¹⁷
This is the nice.'

‘He's talking to you, isn't he? What's he saying?' Cybelle whispered.

‘I have no idea. He's reverted to Scottish.'

‘Aw, lass, I like ye, because ye feed me leftovers and cold stovies.
¹⁸
As a return favour, I'll tell ye everything your parents said about Marguerite when they thought no one was listening.'

In a few hours' time, after the sun came up, there would be an attempt on the Duke's life at the station. But right now Ondine was more interested in dramas closer to home.

‘Yer da says she's too young, but he can't see that ye've all grown up and he can't control ye any more. Yer ma was more circumspect,' Shambles said as he made himself comfortable on Ondine's pillow. ‘She says Thomas would move in and then they'd have an
extra pair of hands at the bar, and Margi wouldnae work out front any more and be leered on by drunks. Sure and it would be better if she married and stayed close to home, than married and ran away.
¹⁹
She also said she'd get a refund on the Summercamp, owing to the fact you'll be needed here now and won't be going back.'

Ondine shook her head as a wry smile crept over her lips. ‘Trust Ma to appeal to his practical side.' Secretly she felt glad her mother wanted her back.

‘What did he say?' Cybelle asked.

The wry smile turned into a huff. ‘I feel like a parrot, having to repeat everything. Shambles, how come Ma and I can hear you and Cybelle can't?'

A cheeky look crossed Shambles's face and he winked
at Ondine. ‘Because you're the fairest in the land.'

A giggle percolated in her tummy, but she held it in check. ‘Um, he's not sure,' she said, feeling a little embarrassed at the compliment.

High time to switch off the light – that way Cybelle wouldn't be able to see Ondine grinning. Cybelle also wouldn't be able to see how furiously she was blushing, judging by the heat pouring through her neck and face as the man in ferret form cuddled against her skin.

‘So, what next?' Cybelle asked.

Shambles relayed what he heard to Ondine, and Ondine relayed what she heard to Cybelle. ‘Yer ma wants the wedding to happen as soon as possible. They're planning an engagement party, and yer da will have to get used to having another man around the hoose.'

For a moment Ondine wondered what it would be like having an older brother. Except it wouldn't really be like having an older brother, because Thomas would be much too polite to boss her around like a real older brother would.

‘Yer da's main concern is that all of this will give
you and Cybelle ideas,' Shambles added. ‘He thinks it will set a bad example, but Thomas isnae gonna stoat the ba'.
²⁰
Your ma had an answer for that too – she said, “How can it be a bad example if they're married?” She said it was only natural that married people should live together. It was either that or Margi and Thomas elope and live somewhere else, and then we'd be short one barmaid slash kitchen hand slash laundry girl. We'd have to bring in more outside help, and that would mean paying proper wages.'

They thought about this for a little while, until Cybelle said, ‘Don't you think it's strange? Da couldn't wait for us to grow up so we'd be able to help out more. But now that we are older he's treating us like babies.'

‘I know. It's driving me crazy. Was he always like this or am I just noticing it more?' Ondine asked the darkness.

Shambles piped up, ‘I'd say it's a bit of both. Dads are the same the world over. When their babies grow
up and start getting interested in other people, they realise every other randy lad out there is just like they used to be. I guess it's part of the circle of life.'

Ondine didn't see it like that. ‘I think that's what they call hypocrisy. Da just wants it all his own way.'

‘Then you should let him think he's getting it,' Shambles muttered.

Despite the late hour, Ondine couldn't stop her mind from racing. Injustice did that to a girl.

‘Good on Ma for standing up for Margi,' Cybelle said. ‘By the time they get round to me, it will be much easier, and when it's your turn, Ondi, they'll be so worn down they won't protest.'

That caught Ondine by surprise. ‘What do you mean? What's going on with you?'

‘Oh, um, you know, I was just talking hypothetically. Goodnight.' And with that, the middle daughter rolled over to face the wall and pretended to sleep. Except she wasn't asleep because Ondine didn't hear any snoring.

‘She's a dark horse, that one,' Shambles said, having a chuckle. The giggly movement of his body tickled Ondine's neck. Margi had kept a big secret, and she'd
kept it very well. Maybe Belle knew how to keep a secret too. And what about Ondine's turn? Who would she fall in love with? she wondered. For some reason, Lord Vincent's handsome face popped into her mind.

The search for answers about her sisters' secrets kept Ondine awake for another few minutes, before she succumbed to a mixture of fatigue and the soporific effect of Shambles's warm, furry body against her and fell asleep.

When the sun came up, there was little time to think about personal matters, as the Duke's impending doom sat heavily with Ondine and Shambles. Josef was at his overprotective fatherly best, refusing Ondine permission to attend the grand opening of the pedestrian overpass at the station.

‘I need to know what happens, so I can see whether our warning helped the Duke. I mean, what's the point of us spending all those hours worried about him if we can't see the outcome for ourselves?' Ondine protested as she returned to the kitchen from the dining room. They were in the midst of the breakfast service for the
hotel's guests, so they worked and talked at the same time. Something they were very good at.

Da was having none of it. ‘One, it's potentially dangerous. Two, you have a job to do. Look at all those dishes by the sink – they'll not clean themselves.'

Nothing could be further from the truth
, Ondine thought, as her hands clenched into angry fists at her sides. The bit about ditching work, that is. The rest of it was true. Dishes never cleaned themselves.

More plates of bacon, sausages, eggs and toast were ready, so Ondine took those out to a table. When she came back, her dad still looked cross.

‘Let her go, Da,' Cybelle interjected. ‘You could go with Ondi if you're that worried about her safety. I'll stay and help Chef with food prep for the lunch crowds.'

Chef, who had a real name but nobody used it, was the only true employee at the hotel. As such he was the only one who could be fired. He was tall yet light on his feet as he moved about the kitchen cooking meals and stirring sauces. He wore the same bleached-white uniform every day, although he would need a new
one soon judging by the way his pot belly strained against the buttons. Under his white hat flecks of jet-black hair poked out, contrasting sharply with his pale skin.
²¹
All the while the family argued (although they'd deny it was an argument, they'd say it was just debating things, long and heartily, and a bit loudly), Chef stayed out of the line of fire. With his strong and fast hands, he kept busy with another batch of scrambled eggs.