The Autumn Palace (4 page)

Drab-tastic!

Pyotr continued, ‘Your bags are yet to arrive. We'll walk to the laundry, where I'll introduce you to Miss Matice. She is the Master of Domestic Services, which is one of the most important jobs we have here.'

Nice that he tried to talk up the job description, but Ondine wasn't fooled. As they walked away from the kitchens and headed towards the laundry, those lovely cooking aromas faded away, replaced by strong smells of bleach, floral detergent and something that might almost pass for green apples.

‘I'm very happy to do laundry,' Ondine said, because she didn't want to seem ungrateful. OK, laundry was a drudge, but Pyotr could have given her plenty of worse things to do, like scrub floors or toilets. ‘But, if you don't mind me asking, how come you wanted to know about my kitchen experience?'

‘Because, if you've worked in a kitchen, you'll know all about wine and food stains, and how to get them out.' Pyotr gave her a big grin.

Old Col snickered into her hand.

Hamish looked despondent and slightly worried. ‘You'll be OK.' He leant forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek, which had the temporary effect of making her forget all about her imminent menial work. The drudgery would be worth it if she and Hamish could be together.

‘Young love. Bless,' an unfamiliar voice said.

Ondine felt heat rising in her face as she turned.

Pyotr introduced her. ‘Miss Matice, this is Ondine, she will be starting here today. Would you be so kind as to take her under your wing?'

Miss Matice's hair was pulled into a tight blonde ponytail that made her head look alarmingly thin, like the rest of her reed-thin body, which almost seemed to disappear when she turned sideways.

‘Delighted,' Miss Matice said, extending her bony hand to Ondine. ‘Please, call me Draguta, we friends now, yes?'

‘Y-yes.' With a mental hiccup, Ondine shook hands and tried to keep a straight face. Honestly, what kind of parents burdened their kid with such a horrible name? An uncharitable thought arrived – maybe she'd been a really ugly baby.

‘Bye, then,' Hamish said, giving Ondine a lopsided smile.

She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him silly, but that would not go down so well with her new employer. And she really needed to make a good
impression so they would see how useful she was and allow her to stay.

With a small wave, she bid him farewell and made ready to face up to her new job.
²²
Pyotr, Old Col and Hamish turned and walked away.

‘Start with baskets. Is about to rain, get washing off line,' Draguta said in her strangely clipped style of talking. Ondine wondered if perhaps Brugelish was her second language.

Through the open doorway, Ondine looked out at the courtyard and saw a small team of workers removing washing from the line. She walked out and reached up to the first peg.

Something wet and smelly slapped her hand.

Urgh! It was a fish! A woman next to Ondine
screamed and came running inside, dropping her basket of laundry in the process. ‘It's raining fish!'

Plop! Flop! Splat!

Like some bizarre dream, fish fell all around her, landing with wet spluds on her head and shoulders and the ground. Some of them kept wriggling and flipping. And oh, the putrid smell!

Argh! Horrified, yet compelled to stay on task, Ondine grabbed the washing from the line and threw it into the basket. Wet projectiles kept hammering her.
Ooof
, her head.
Ouch
, her shoulder.
Biff
, her face.

All around people were screaming and crying and huddling under the eaves to get away from the hideous rain.

Ondine picked up her laundry basket and charged inside.

‘Where is laundry?' Draguta demanded.

Looking down, Ondine gasped. Her basket was full of fish. ‘It must be underneath!'

‘Is crazy! Crazy!' Draguta threw her hands up in the air in frustration. ‘Will have to wash all over again!'

‘Or, looking on the bright side, I've caught us dinner,' Ondine said.

‘Ha! I like you!' Draguta slapped her on the back. ‘Now, get rid of fish and get washing. Here, take basket and sort for colours.' In the next breath, Draguta caught the attention of another laundry worker and told her to take all the fish to the kitchens.

Feeling bewildered by the strange turn of events, Ondine could only shrug and get to work, sorting clothes. Draguta tended to an industrial-sized machine that had just finished spinning. Not for the first time, Ondine wondered whether she would ever get used to calling Draguta by that harsh name. Strong veins popped out on Draguta's sinewy arms as she pulled wet bath sheets and towelling robes from the machine. At the same time, another laundress moved towards a small door set into the wall. Dirty clothes spilled on to the floor.

‘A laundry chute! That's cool,' Ondine said.

‘Not nearly,' Draguta said. ‘They be lords and ladies, but live like slobs. They put down chutes in one day what regular people use in week. Get used to it.'

‘Draguta, do you have a middle name?' Ondine asked as she separated the dirty clothes into their respective piles.

The laundry mistress's face turned to a scowl. ‘Elena. Named after grandmother, may she rot in hell!' Draguta turned to her right and spat on the floor.

A slither of fear slid up Ondine's spine and she mentally ruled out ever mentioning the name Elena again.

Should she try another tack? Why not. ‘Do you have a nickname?'

‘No.'

Ondine gulped. ‘Well . . . most people call me Ondi for short, so feel free to call me that, I don't mind.'

‘My name is Draguta. Is strong name.' Draguta hefted a basket of wet washing on to where her hips would be if she had a gram of fat on her. A strong name for a strong woman.

It took two workers to heft each of the remaining baskets of washing out to the courtyard, where the rain had stopped just as fast as it began. Draguta managed a whole basket on her own. Ondine stayed
inside, sorting the remaining dirty clothes.

‘You need to go through pockets,' Draguta instructed, as she came back into the laundry. ‘They filthy, leave tissues behind. Lost count of times to rewash dark trousers because of shredded tissue. Don't be shy, shove hand in there. Ferret around.'

Ferret?

Panic surged through Ondine. ‘Jupiter's moons!
Ferret!
'

 

21
   ‘Seneschal' is a fancy name for ‘housemaster', which is a very important job. The seneschal answers directly to the Duke and therefore wields enormous influence over the rest of the staff. Pick a fight with the seneschal and you'd better start looking for a new job
.

22
   Which was remarkably similar to her old job. You may have noticed it was a Sunday afternoon and there were people working. Just like hotels, weekends are the busiest times at the palechia, so laundry staff take their weekends on Tuesdays and Wednesdays
.

Ondine's timetable looked like this:

H
ow far had Hamish gone? What if he transformed into a ferret in front of the seneschal?

‘I have to go!' Ondine shot up, knocking over a pile of silk blouses. Charging down the hallway, she yelled out, ‘Hamish, wait!'

On she ran, hoping she wasn't too late. All that time on the train and they hadn't spent one moment discussing how they were going to manage Hamish's . . .
issue
. They had been together so much during summer, she'd become used to him being human whenever she was around. What if he'd lost the ability to control his transformations? A familiar groan of pain and a filthy Celtic curse carried up the hall. Ondine's vision blurred as tears threatened to leak out. Skittering around the corner, she saw Shambles the
ferret lying on the floor. Clothes everywhere. Old Col cast Ondine a dark look, as if this were all her fault. Pyotr merely cocked one eyebrow and swallowed, waiting for an explanation. Ondine herself struggled to find a reason.

For a moment she opened and shut her mouth, but nothing came out. Pyotr had just witnessed a terrifying weather event and now a man turning into a ferret. She wondered if she should tell him about the fish rain? It would be a lot to take in. Dread crawled through her body. She didn't have to be psychic to know they were in serious trouble if she didn't think of something quickly.

The something she thought of was: ‘You've never seen a man turn into a ferret before?'

‘Can't say that I have.' Pyotr scratched his temple.

‘You have now,' Ondine ploughed on. ‘You can see what a great asset he'll be to the Duke. After all, Shambles is the one who foiled the assassination attempt against him. The Duke wouldn't even be here if not for him. That's why he offered him a job, because he saved his life. And if Duke Pavla goes
under, Lord Vincent would take control, and who wants that?'

‘Thank you, yes.' Pyotr nodded slowly, closing his eyes as he did so, indicating he'd heard – and possibly seen – quite enough.

‘If ye could all turn around for a wee bit, I need tae straighten meself out,' Shambles said, wincing as he budged and fudged his way into a sitting position to become humanly Hamish again. Ondine felt a fresh pang of longing for him. He looked like he was in so much pain.

They turned their backs to give him privacy.

‘I have seen many things in my years . . .' Pyotr started.

Ondine waited for him to finish his sentence, but after a few breathy pauses with nothing between them, she realised he wouldn't.

‘Great Aunt Col did it to him, in the ballroom here at the palechia. Years ago when she made her debut.' Ondine turned to see how the seneschal was taking it. A flicker on Pyotr's face, a raised eyebrow, then his features were back in place, as if they were
discussing nothing more than the weather.

With a small cough Old Col said, ‘You are the epitome of discretion, sir, and we are in your debt.'

Once he had his trousers on the right way, Hamish stood up. He sat down again straight away and looked a bit woozy.

Ondine knelt beside him and put her hand on his shoulder, ‘You're hurting.'

‘Naw lass, I'll be fine.'

She didn't buy it, and gave him a tender kiss on the forehead to salve the pain.

Pyotr spoke up. ‘I think it would be best if he returned to his animal form.'

‘But –' Ondine started.

Pyotr said, ‘As much as it appears to pain him, I believe the Duke would prefer him to remain a ferret.'

‘Dinnae fuss, it will just be for a wee while,' Hamish said.

Ondine began to fret. They were at the Duke's palechia because they wanted to be together. But the Duke only wanted the ferrety Shambles side of
Hamish. It hurt to know the only way they could be together was to be apart.

Ondine flung her arms around Hamish's neck and hugged him, hard. ‘We'll work something out,' she said, and kissed him again.

Pain lanced Ondine as she watched him revert to his animal form, but it was nothing compared to the physical pain he must be feeling.

Pyotr said, ‘By the way, what is that smell?'

‘It's trout,' Ondine said. ‘Lots of them fell from the sky as we took in the laundry.'

Pyotr stopped and stared at Ondine. ‘Do you mean to say it has just rained fish?'

‘Yes, sir. But we've cleaned most of it up.'

‘Just a moment,' he said as two men walked down the hall towards them. Pyotr asked them to remove any stray fish from the lawns, trees and rooftops. ‘And see that you clean out any debris that may have fallen through the school roof.' They looked startled.

‘I meant what I said,' Pyotr added, dismissing the workmen. He returned his gaze to Col, Shambles and Ondine, his face showing no sign that he'd
asked the workers to perform anything out of the ordinary. ‘Come this way. The Duke does not like to be kept waiting.'