Ondine (15 page)

D
espite the late hour, Marguerite and Thomas's engagement party kept going strong. In between duties in the kitchen, Colette and Josef made regular appearances in the garden and were on their best behaviour around Thomas's folks.

All night Ondine fought hard to keep her focus on the party when the whole time her thoughts strayed to Hamish in human form. If only he'd stayed back in the kitchen, it would have been bearable, but he had to keep walking around with trays of food, making nice with everyone. Like this for instance:

‘Can I tempt you?' he asked a group of Margi's friends, offering a tray of canapés.

The dirty flirt! The girls all smiled and giggled and took the morsels of food. As soon as his back was
turned they huddled their heads together and tittered with suppressed laughter. The same thing happened to the next group he approached.

Frustrated, Ondine deliberately looked away from Hamish and saw Mrs Howser sitting at a table, with a mixed group of Thomas's friends. What could they have in common? Then she saw it: Mrs Howser upended a teacup on to her saucer and turned it back.

Inching closer, she heard the old lady's predictions.

‘. . . a carriage. You are going on a journey.'

Pfft, isn't everyone on a journey?

Ondine restrained her scorn but couldn't help rolling her eyes. Something she seriously had to stop doing, because it was starting to hurt the sockets.

‘Read mine,' a girl enthused.

‘You'll need to drink the tea first. Infuse it with your aura.'

‘But I don't like tea.'

Stifling a snort, Ondine made to leave, but her mother, who just happened to be passing at that moment, had other ideas. ‘Ask Ondi for your future –
she'll read it in your palm.'

A trickle of fear entered Ondine's soul. Expectant eyes turned to her. She felt trapped. She mouthed ‘no' to her mother in protest, but the woman ignored her.

Is this Gang Up On Ondine Day?

‘But, Ma, I'm not –'

‘You should have seen her the other day! She had the health inspector nailed, right down to how many children. We passed the inspection with flying colours, by the way.'

‘Read mine then.' The same young woman who didn't like tea sprinted towards Ondine with her palm out. ‘Tell me what I'm in for.'

‘She has the gift, it's in her blood,' Ma gushed. Ondine didn't know what matricide
⁴⁷
meant, but she was having thoughts of it all the same.

The window of opportunity to protest closed with a thud in her ears. The eager teenager held her palm out for inspection. The face that greeted Ondine looked so happy, so expectant. It would really
sour the party mood if she refused.

Promising to growl at her mother later, she set to work making stuff up.

‘I'll need both hands. One palm is what you were born with, the other is what you make of it.'

She sensed Mrs Howser's eyes on her as she looked over the two palms. Scant weeks earlier, she'd fled Psychic Summercamp. Unfortunately it had followed her home. Time stretched. Nothing came into her head to help her out. Her own palms began to sweat. Her customer's palms were just soft mounds of flesh with lines on them. Pale, with a few blotches of red near the juncture of her fingers.

Eczema?

‘You really need to watch out for allergies,' Ondine blurted.

‘Ohmigosh you're right! I get terrible hayfever. What else?'

When Ondine looked up at the girl's face, she saw her smile, and noticed the very pale gums around her teeth.

‘You're a vegetarian.'

‘Wow. You're good!'

No, she wasn't good, just observant. Pink gums were an indication of good health. Pale gums showed iron deficiency, which meant the girl probably didn't eat meat. Observation and pure good luck. Hardly a sign from the heavens.

The guesswork should have put her customer off, but all it did was attract more people eager for the same ‘divine' instructions.

‘You have a kind heart and like looking after people,' Ondine said. Nobody in their right mind would disagree with that.

The girl withdrew her hands. ‘I nearly forgot,' she said. ‘I need to cross your palm with silver, don't I? Otherwise it's bad luck.' She drew a few coins from her purse and gave them to Ondine.

Money.

So that's why her mother was so keen to foster the psychic connection. They could make money from it! The realisation made her feel sick to her boots. It was one thing to engage in some harmless entertainment as a party trick, but when money was
involved, it became outright fraud.

‘No, please, this is just for fun. Keep your money.'

‘Hardly. Last thing I want is a gypsy curse hanging over me. If you don't want the money, put it towards Margi's wedding. Now, tell me how I meet my husband, and how many children we'll have.'

‘I'm next,' Ondine heard to her left.

‘Then me,' another said.

‘Start a queue then,' she heard her mother say.

Lurch
went her stomach.
Fizz
went her brain.

She was done for.

Aside from her palm-reading swindle, the rest of the party was excellent. Less than half a dozen beer glasses broken, nobody came to blows, people laughed a lot, the police only came around twice to check on the noise and Margi and Thomas danced whenever the music played. The best part of the night – as far as Ondine was concerned – was Mrs Howser and Aunt Col retiring earlier than everyone else, both claiming ‘a headache'. They'd probably sneaked back into the front bar to continue
bickering. Or raid the plütz supply more like.

On the minus side, Hamish had spent the rest of the night walking among everyone. Correction,
flirting
among everyone, tempting people with plates of food. Whenever Ondine saw him, she had to fight the growing hunger pains in her tummy against the prospect of having her family see her talking with Hamish and making a fuss. It was best to keep clear of him completely and go hungry.

Da made a speech that started maudlin and got worse, lamenting about losing his oldest daughter, his first baby who would always be his baby. Funny, that – he'd told Ondine she'd always be his baby, that day at the train station. Surely by now he had to accept his three ‘babies' were allowed to grow up?

‘It's difficult for me, with three daughters,' he continued, looking at everyone through beer goggles.
⁴⁸
‘When I was Thomas's age, I could never understand why the girls I liked had such strict fathers. Now I
understand. It's because every young man out there is just like I used to be!'

People howled with laughter and thumped Thomas on the back.

‘But seriously,' Da continued, ‘Thomas, you're a real surprise package. You're one of the good ones, and I'm pleased as plütz to welcome you to the family.'

To Ondine's complete surprise, the two men embraced in a manly hug. Her father was softening. Hooray for Margi!

Da's speech was tame compared to those made by Thomas's friends, which started in the gutter and ended up in the sewer. Margi blushed scarlet and Thomas yelled out, ‘Who invited you?'

‘You did!' they yelled back.

‘I don't know these people!' Thomas buried his head in his hands.

Poor Margi, she winced and cringed so much during the ribald speeches Ondine felt sorry for her. Although just for a moment it was a relief to have someone else become the centre of embarrassment. When the speeches were over, it was time for more dancing, so
Ondine and Melody joined in with a large group of Margi and Thomas's friends. During one of the old-style progressive dances, Ondine twirled around the group and caught sight of Hamish standing in the doorway, watching her.

Of course, she had to trip right at that moment. Stupid shoes. When she looked up, Hamish was gone, thank goodness. She could get on with ignoring him properly.

‘I see him looking at you,' Marguerite said as she sidled up to Ondine. ‘Reminds me of the way Thomas used to look at me. He's working up the courage to ask you out.'

‘I doubt it.'
I hope so
.

‘Count on it.' Margi gave her a warm hug, then cast her eyes back to her fiancé. ‘Would you look at that. Da and Thomas are into the plütz like old friends.'

‘Who would have thought it?' Ondine said. ‘Da's really coming round to the idea of Thomas joining the family.'

‘You can thank Ma for that, she brought him round.
And Thomas too – he's been the
perfect
gentleman.'

Of course her sister would say that, being so madly in love with Thomas. Ondine tried to smile and be happy for her sister – truly she was – but sadness seeped in.

‘Oh, Ondi, cheer up.' Margi noticed right away, of course. ‘It may not seem so now, but one day you will be as happy as me. I know it.'

When the last of the guests left at around five the next morning, Ondine hobbled to a bench under the fairy lights and rubbed her aching feet. It felt good to soothe the knots and aches. As she massaged the sore skin, she felt as if someone were watching her.

‘Yer family puts on a fine ceilidh.'
⁴⁹
Hamish approached with a plate of hors d'oeuvres.
⁵⁰

Ondine tucked her feet underneath her skirts to hide how ugly her toes looked from being squished and
mashed all night. She made to speak but her mouth went dry.

‘Ye havenae eaten all night. If I didn't know any better, I'd say ye've been avoiding me, lass.'

‘Don't be silly,' she said, surprised that she managed three words when her throat felt so parched.

‘Here, eat.' Hamish grabbed Ondine's hand, making her hold the plate of food. At his touch, heat shot up her arm and she stared at the food, her appetite nowhere to be found.

‘I like being human again,' Hamish said, tilting his head down so he could make eye contact with her lowered gaze.

A lock of dark hair fell over his forehead. An ache started in Ondine's heart. Heavens above, he was so handsome a girl could completely lose her head. As if to deny her feelings, she picked up a slice of savoury tart and shoved it into her mouth. It didn't matter that only moments ago she'd been touching her feet and her hands were probably covered in germs. All she wanted to do was stuff her mouth with food so that she didn't say something stupid.

Ordinarily she loved Chef's food. No wonder Cybelle had fallen for him – the man cooked like an angel! Yet right now, Ondine couldn't taste anything because the presence of this Scot had invaded all her senses and turned the food to dust.

‘I need to tell ye something, Ondi.' Hamish's hand touched the back of hers. Ondine's heart started racing in her chest and the skin on her arm puckered into goosebumps. ‘Yer cold.' He took his jacket off and placed it around Ondine's shoulders. ‘There, fits ye better than me anyway.'

A nod was all Ondine could manage.

‘Ye don't like me any more?'

Ondine gulped down the hard lump of food as her throat constricted. ‘No, that's not true,' she replied, but she didn't say anything else because her brain had stopped working properly. She didn't say, ‘Hamish, I like you too much,' or ‘Hamish, you're the most handsome man I've ever met,' or ‘Hamish, you'd better ask me to marry you or I'm going to die right now.' Although her thoughts took her exactly along those lines.

‘I'm no psychic, so I can't read yer mind. But I'll tell ye what's on mine,' he started.

Ondine forgot how to breathe.

‘I've taken Old Col's advice to heart. I need to mend my ways. Tonight has shown me that. I have it in me, I can reclaim my life, and make it a good life too.'

Hamish shifted on the bench, and angled himself towards her. ‘Ondi, can ye please look at me. I want to know ye don't hate me.'

It took an almost superhuman effort, but somehow she managed to get her head to turn enough, and her eyelids to lift enough, so she could look him in the face. Not his twinkling eyes, which would hurt her heart too much if she looked deeply into them. She settled for his lips. That was a mistake, because the moment she looked at his mouth she wanted to kiss it.

Stupid hormones. Turning me into an idiot.

‘You've shown me that it's noble to be useful. To be part of a family. I've never had that before . . .'

What he said didn't make sense, because she barely heard half of it over her hammering heart. Was he
saying he wanted to stay with her family, or was he about to return to his in Scotland?

‘I've asked yer ma and da if it's all right if I can stay here. Just until I find me feet, like.'

Yippee! Hamish is staying. Hamish is staying. Hamish is staying. Oh dear, did I just say that out loud?

‘I've relied on other people's charity for too long. I need to find my own way.'