Ondine (14 page)

Of course they wouldn't get a moment alone
, Ondine privately fumed as she followed him to the kitchen and pulled on an apron and an enormous pair of gloves. Sure, they were standing near each other, but at the rate the dishes piled up, there wasn't a chance to say any more than, ‘Pass me another tea towel, this one's soaked.' And even though they had obviously been psychically linked in the dream she'd had, it didn't seem to work when they were awake. A few times she tried to psychically ask him to pass a towel, but he didn't.

Can you hear my thoughts?
Ondine silently asked.

Hamish made no reaction, so she took that as a ‘no'. She felt frustrated at her lack of psychic progress, but at the same time a little bit glad he couldn't read her mind right now.

Da kept looking askance at them, and shook his head a few times. Ondine could have sworn he chuckled too. Every now and then, Ondine caught her parents quickly discussing things in hushed tones, then they'd throw a glance her way. Probably just to make her feel paranoid.

Chef barely had time to acknowledge the new member of staff, because he was busy cooking a dozen steaks five different ways from rare to well done.
⁴⁴

Then another thought struck Ondine: with the new year of school starting at the end of summer, she would be away all day and writing assignments all night. They'd have to keep Hamish on to help out while she was busy studying. Surely her parents wouldn't put her education at risk?

Perfect logic.

The thought sent a glimmer of excitement through her system as she plunged her hands into the scalding water to scrub one of Chef's particularly nasty stockpots.

‘Right you two, stop mooning at each other,' Ma said as she approached. They'd been washing dirty
dishes for nearly an hour by this stage. ‘You're both on front of house for the rest of the night, so do your best. Whoever gets the most tips earns a day off tomorrow.'

The thought of a day off – sleeping in, reading her favourite book, lounging about in her pyjamas until noon – held serious appeal. That and not being up to her armpits in greasy water.

Ondine turned to Hamish and pulled her hand from the glove with a noisy squelch. ‘May the best one win.'

‘You're on,' he said, giving her hand a friendly shake.

She should have been confident, but when his hand took Ondine's, her bones turned to mush and the intensity of his gaze made her forget what they were supposed to be doing. Then another thought occurred to her: perhaps she should throw the competition and make sure Hamish won?

‘Stop making eyes, go clean up and get out the front. Dinner won't serve itself,' Ma said.

Ondine ducked out of the kitchen for a moment and returned wearing fresh, clean,
dry
clothes. It hadn't taken her long, but she was already running behind.
According to Ma, Hamish was out there charming everyone.

She took the plates of food to a family with four children and sighed. With a large family, there wouldn't be much money left over for tips. On the other hand, it would help Hamish get ahead in the race, so that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Her competitive spirit kicked in when she saw the group of ladies at her next table. One look at their pastel blue hair told her they were retirees, most likely widows, possibly with a bit of cash to splash. She took their orders and they all said yes to dessert, plus tea and coffee. Turning back to the kitchen, she caught sight of Hamish as he farewelled an earlier group – all well-dressed and aged around thirty. They should have plenty of spare change. The resigned look on his face indicated otherwise.

‘What's wrong?'

‘Teachers. Lousy tippers,' he said.

‘Why don't you take my table that just came in? Charm their socks off.'

Hamish cast a glance at the new group of women.
From the look of their showy earrings and manicured hands, they had plenty of cash to spare. ‘You'd do that for me?'

‘Sure, what are friends for?'

Hamish grinned, then stalled for a second as he gazed into Ondine's eyes. ‘You're letting me win?'

A wicked smile split Ondine's face. ‘No, I'm giving you an even chance. You'll make them feel young and pretty again; I'll just remind them of their long-lost youth.' Then she pretended to blow on her nails and shine them on her shirt.

Game on. Gimme your best shot.

Great Pluto's ghost, I'm reduced to thinking in clichés.

Picture the following: two old glass jars that once held industrial amounts of artichoke hearts and pimento-stuffed olives (which were very tasty, thank you) sitting on a shelf. As Hamish accepted the tips from one table, he dropped the coins and the occasional note into his jar on the right with a satisfying tinkety-clunk.

As Ondine accepted tips from her tables, she returned to the kitchen and placed half her tips in her
jar on the left (again, with a satisfying tinkety-clunk) and the other half in Hamish's jar on the right. A person with nothing more to do than watch the tips jars all night would see the coins and notes clunketing and tinketing left and right, a few more for Hamish, then a few more for Ondine, who gave yet more to Hamish.

Anyone would think she was trying to throw the game.

In this case, absolutely true.

‘Ondine, what are you doing?' Ma asked, arms crossed tightly over her ample bosom.

A large invisible rock formed in Ondine's throat as she tried to swallow. When she opened her mouth, nothing came out.

Hamish walked towards them with a spring in his step, his hands full of money, his voice a sing-song. ‘Mrs G, here's the receipt and money from table ten for you, and the tips for me.'

Ma had to uncross her arms to take the money, but as soon as she took the notes she re-folded them. Holding her mother's eye contact proved too much like confrontation, so Ondine turned to check on Hamish.

On his face she saw the smile of a man with no troubles.

‘Righto, let's count them, shall we?' He lifted a jar with each hand.

Time moved slowly as Ondine found herself unable to move her feet. Ma had her in some kind of suspension glare that kept her fixed to the spot.
⁴⁵
The complete opposite of what she should do, which was to get out of there and join the rest of the engagement party in the rear garden.

Hamish seemed oblivious to all of it as he hefted the jars to the table. ‘Let's see who's the winner.'

Ondine felt sure she saw a gleam in his eye. Sure enough, the gleam became a full-blown twinkly glisten
as he emptied both jars at once on to the table. The entire contents mushed and tinkled together in one messy coin pile.

Ondine's mouth fell open. He'd done it deliberately! Didn't he want to win?

‘Oh dear, I guess I should have given that more thought.' He gave a nonchalant shrug.

A giggle escaped Ondine's open mouth. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't make it stop.

Ma uncrossed her arms, but only so she could put her hands on her hips. ‘You two. You're incorrigible!'

Ondine snorted.

Ma conceded defeat. ‘Fine, fine, call it a draw. Enjoy your morning off tomorrow.'

Hamish grinned and sent Ondine a look that made things dart around inside her in an altogether quite lovely way. Then his face fell. ‘Morning off? I thought the winner got the day off?'

‘Yes, but it's a draw, so a day off for one person becomes a morning off for two. Now, Margi's lot are still out the back, go join them.'

Typical Ma
, Ondine thought,
always one step ahead
.

* * *

As they walked out to the back garden, Ondine stayed a few paces behind Hamish.
⁴⁶
Soon she found herself under the full attention of her great-aunt.

‘He must be mending his ways,' Old Col volunteered as she took a seat under a tree to settle in for the night. ‘Although from the way he looked at you, Ondi, I can't vouch for how long it will last. Praise the heavens for a full moon, for there's nowhere to hide when Luna is watching us.'

‘How come he's not a ferret any more?' Ondine asked the question she'd been dying to know the answer to ever since Shambles changed into Hamish.

Her great-aunt gave a theatrical sigh and shook her head. ‘He must have found the motivation to break the spell. Let me think. What did I curse him with . . .'

As if you could forget something like that
.

‘Clearly, he wants to be human again. What do you think is happening?'

‘I have no idea.'

‘Surely you do. He's bonding with you, I'm sure of it. Which leads me to wonder, what powers do
you
have that you can reverse one of
my
spells?' Great Aunt Col fixed Ondine with a beady eye.

Lurch
went something inside her belly.

Margi spotted them and came over. ‘Ondine, what happened to the fairy lights?' She pointed to the bundles of globes bunched up in a tree.

‘Oh, sorry about that, I'll fix it,' Ondine said, grateful for something to do other than be subjected to Old Col's inquisition. Bless Margi, she'd rescued Ondine just in time.

But when she made to climb up the stepladder, she wobbled and nearly fell off.

Help was at hand. Melody came to her aid and held the ladder steady. ‘Ondi, he's gorgeous,' she whispered.

The bundle of fairy lights tangled in her hands. ‘Um, if you say so.'

‘Are you blind? He's absolutely
divine
,' Melody said, fanning her face with her hand, pretending she'd become flustered.

‘Cut it out!' Ondine hissed, desperately trying to stem the shaking in her hands and failing.

‘He really likes you, too. I can tell by the way he looks at you. Do you think your mother will let him stay with you?'

‘Oh, Melody, let it drop!' Ondine became even more anxious, but from the mischievous look in Melody's eyes, there was no way her friend would comply. As much as she loved thinking about Hamish, the thought of everyone else thinking about her and Hamish only added to her frustration. Her only chance of reprieve was to change the subject entirely. ‘So, Mrs Howser, yeah?'

It worked. Melody looked confused and crinkled her forehead. ‘What about her?'

‘She and Old Col obviously go way back – they were less than pleased to see each other today.' Ondine felt giddily pleased with herself for so successfully moving the topic on to something much safer.

‘Oh yeah, way back. They were good friends, but I found out from Mrs Howser that they had a huge falling-out at a debutante ball of all places. By the way,
are you thinking of doing your deb? My mother wants me to, but they're
sooo
last century. All those dance lessons just for one night of dressing up. I guess that's what they did before television.'

‘Mrs Howser told you that?' Now it was Ondine's turn to press for answers and watch Melody squirm.

‘Not in so many words. I, um, sort of found out during an, uh, astral exercise.'

That was seriously impressive. ‘Astral, eh? You're really doing well in that. And Mrs Howser has no idea you know all this?'

The conversation should have ended in them giggling, but what Melody said next made Ondine wish she'd never gone down this path.

‘I think it was over Hamish. They each wanted the same man to partner them at the deb, but Old Col won out. But . . . I guess Col lost in the end, because Hamish got drunk and it all ended badly. You wouldn't think to look at them now, but those witches were both really pretty when they were our age.'

‘Talk about carrying a grudge. Just for a stupid dance,' Ondine said.

‘But if it was over Hamish, and he looked like that,' Melody fanned her face with her hand again, ‘I can understand it!'

Ondine rolled her eyes. ‘Promise me we won't have a falling-out over something as silly as a dance?'

‘Of course not. And we won't have a falling-out over Hamish either, because he's so taken with you nobody else could get a look-in.'

Ondine's hands trembled with nerves and she dropped the bundle of lights on the ground.

 

43
They'd ‘shrunk' in the wash during Colette's first pregnancy with Marguerite. Men often gain weight when their wives or partners are pregnant. Some call it sympathetic eating, others claim it's Couvade's Syndrome, where a man experiences the same pregnancy symptoms as his partner because he's so ‘in touch' with her feelings. The most likely explanation is too many pies.

44
If you're the kind of person who likes steak ‘well done', consider this. Do you like it incinerated because you really do want to get cancer from eating burnt food, or is it because you can't handle the sight of blood? If it's because you can't handle a bit of pink, then you're a wuss. Steak should be well pink inside, and dripping beautiful bloody juices on to the plate. And another thing. If you order your steak ‘well done' you'll get the lousy piece of meat, because the chef knows you don't know anything about how real food should taste.

45
It's a known fact that parents do have these super-powers, but only in limited supply. Many possess glares that can root you to the spot. Mum's spit on a hanky is the most powerful grime solvent in the known universe. They also have unlimited resources to make you feel guilty for doing just about anything even remotely out of line. They are also good at getting lids off jars with seemingly little effort, and know just about everything about anything, so you will never win an argument. Children of the world rejoice, for kryptonite is at hand. Make them breakfast in bed and tell them you love them, often. For then they will be yours and they will do your bidding.

46
It would be rude to suggest that she was doing that deliberately so she could get a look at his trim backside which fitted rather too snugly in Josef's old pants. But yeah, she looked, and it was good.