Ondine (2 page)

‘Nae ye havnae, but ye can hear me,' Shambles added in his thick brogue. ‘Looks like somethin' must hae rubbed off at Summercamp.'

Ondine rolled her eyes. ‘Ma will be so pleased. All that gypsy blood in my veins and all I can do is talk to rodents.'

‘I'm nae rodent, ye bampot,
⁵
I'm a ferret. Completely different. Right then, hae comes the loco. Let me at yer neck.'

‘But . . . but!' Ondine's brain turned to slurry as she tried to make sense of this talking animal. All the while heated embarrassment roared up her neck and face.

‘No backing out now, lassie. I'm coming with ye. Now grab the case and on we get. And upon my honour, I promise to behave.'

What could she do? It was still such a shock that
her new furry friend could talk. And why could she only hear him now? At that moment the train
⁶
pulled in and Ondine had no more time for prevaricating.

It was a tense ride home on the train, what with the uncomfortable wooden seats, a talking ferret wriggling about her neck and passengers giving her very strange looks. As soon as the engine arrived at her home station, Ondine grabbed Shambles away from her throat and put him on her shoulder.

His little paws reached up to the top of her head. He stretched and had a good look around.

‘Oh, so ye live in
this
part of town, how very la-dedah! No wonder yer parents have money tae pish away on psychic dafties.'

By this point you may have formed the opinion that Shambles was not your run-of-the-mill ferret, and you'd be right. You may have also formed the opinion
that he's saucy and cheeky, and you'd be right there too. But if you think he's nothing but trouble, you're wrong, although he does give that impression.

As keen as she was to race home, Ondine waited for the train to clear the station before she stepped off the end of the platform to walk across the tracks, looking both ways to make sure no other trains were coming. The pedestrian overpass would have been safer, but it was closed to the public until the official opening.

‘Pinch me, I'm dreaming,' Shambles said as he noted the direction Ondine was taking him. ‘The girl lives in a pub!'

The ferret spoke the truth. Ondine's parents ran a hotel and public bar on the main road in a pretty swanky part of Venzelemma. Three storeys tall and painted bright blue and white, the hotel towered over the neighbourhood. As neighbourhoods go, the de Groots' part of Venzelemma was one of the nicer ones, with a good mix of residences and businesses, and far removed from the fish markets. Even the newer buildings looked like old buildings to help them blend in.

The Station Hotel prided itself on being a family
business, where everyone pitched in and helped. Not yet old enough to serve alcohol in the bar, Ondine worked in the dining room and helped out behind the scenes. A lot.

Most people think if your parents run a restaurant, you eat delicious five-course meals every night.

You don't.

Ask anyone what it's really like and they'll tell you it's nothing but work. Washing dishes, ironing tablecloths, cleaning the floors, chopping wood for the fire, keeping the fire going all night, preparing food. Look, the list just goes on and on.

But for Ondine, working at home with her parents appealed more than howling at the moon or looking for omens in tea leaves or reading palms or any other great wastes of time that sucked away her precious summer holidays.

‘Wait up, we cannae just walk in. Yer mother will fair faint,' Shambles said, holding on to Ondine's shoulder.

That made Ondine stop for a moment and think about her plan of action.

‘She'll be glad to see me,' she said. ‘Although I don't know what she'll make of you. She's not the pet kind.'

‘I'm nobody's pet!' Shambles clenched his paws on his hips in frustration. ‘And dinnae tell no one about finding a new home for me. Yer the first person who's heard me in scores of years, mebbe more. I've lost count. I need ye tae stick around and help me, because I think I'm losing my social skills.'
⁷

Laughter caught in Ondine's throat. She dumped her suitcase on the ground to catch her breath. It had been a trying morning to say the least, and she wasn't used to lugging heavy things for long distances. Plates piled high with food were fine, because they only needed carrying from the kitchen to the dining-room tables. Heavy suitcases were another matter entirely.

Picking up her suitcase with a grunt, Ondine resumed her walk to the back door. ‘Are all ferrets like you? I mean, how come you can talk?'

‘Because I'm
nawt
a real ferret. I'm a man. My name's Hamish McPhee, but I offended a witch and she turned me thus. I've bin like this for years. Powerful
magic it was and all. Haven't a grey hair on me. Thank gooniss she used a staying spell.'

Ondine's eyes widened in surprise. ‘You offended a witch? Wow!'

‘Aye. She took it badly.'

‘Obviously! You must have done something really awful to her.' Her mind reeled as she wondered what sort of offensive thing might make a witch turn a regular man into a weasel. A regular man! Ondine's memory leapt back to her time in Summercamp, when she'd allowed Shambles to sleep in her dorm. Well, that was before she'd known what he really was. Now that she did know, there'd be no more of that!

‘Aye, and I'm deeply ashamed,' Shambles admitted.

‘What did you do then? And is this witch about to descend on me and demand the return of her familiar?'
⁸
Had Ondine taken on more than she'd bargained for?

‘I'm no
familiar!
They're silly animals turned into
fat-belly pets. I'll have ye remember I'm a man living in reduced circumstances.'

‘You're stalling. What did you do?'

‘Aw, I was a right neep.
⁹
I was supposed tae partner her at a debutante ball. Ye know the ones, where the girls get all dolled up and look like brides? And then they get presented to some fancy-pants man, like a mayor or a duke.'

That gave Ondine cause for pause. ‘It must have been a while ago. Hardly anyone does a deb any more. I know Ma was keen on us getting presented, but it's all a bit old-fashioned and silly.'

‘Too right, that's what I thought. But this girl took it real serious-like. And I didnae. I wasnae yer ideal partner, on account of the fact I had ma first taste of plütz
¹⁰
that night.'

His tone of voice told Ondine he felt truly sorry for his actions, and she started to feel a bit sorry for him in return.

By now they'd reached the back door. Ondine fished around in her pockets for her key and made ready to let them in. The smell of fried breakfast foods wafted from the kitchen windows, making her tummy rumble.

‘Out with it then.'

‘It's embarrassing –'

This ought to be good
. ‘I'm sure it is. Hurry up, I need breakfast.'

‘Aw, breakfast. I could murder some big fatty sausage,' Shambles said, his tongue licking the fur around his mouth in anticipation.

‘Stop stalling,' Ondine said, clenching her hands into fists by her sides. ‘Tell me what happened, and then we'll have breakfast.'

‘Ooooh, listen to ye! All grown up and sophisticated, like,' Shambles teased, then Ondine stared daggers at him and his voice dropped to a sombre tone. ‘I didn't know she was a real witch, otherwise I wouldnae called her one. But she was getting snippy with me, so I ducked off and had some more plütz. It's like peaches and rocket fuel that stuff, and I've nawt touched it since. Then she got really pished with me when I stepped on
her feet and fell over. I ripped the lacy bit at the bottom of her skirt and then she got really mad. She called me pond scum. I called her a witch. She looked like her head might explode. She said, “You're damn right I'm a witch. And you're nothing better than a low-down weasel,” and then she said I could stay like that.'

‘Wow. And she turned you into a ferret, right there in front of everyone?'

‘Naw, she turned me into a donkey! Of
course
she turned me into a ferret! She was fair affronted.'

It took a few moments for Ondine to run the scenario through her head. ‘But she called you a weasel, not a ferret. So how did that work?'

‘I guess mebbe she didn't use the right words. Ferrets are smaller than weasels, but we're the same family, so maybe I am a low-down weasel after all. But between ye and me, I prefer ferret.'

A silence hung in the air, and then Ondine giggled. ‘I think she did the right thing. Debutante balls take a lot of organising, and a lot of rehearsals. People take them very seriously. I think you should apologise to this poor girl as soon as possible. Then you might be
yourself again.' The thought of Shambles becoming himself again made her wonder. What would he look like if he were real again? Maybe he wasn't much older than she was. As Shambles had said, the witch had used the right kind of spell to preserve his age, which set her mind to thinking all sorts of lovely possibilities. His voice alone made her grin.

Opening the back door, the pungent odour of fried meats and old beer greeted them.

‘Aww, that's the good stuff.' Shambles took a huge and very noisy sniff.

‘Ondine! What are you doing home?' her mother called out from the hallway.

‘Hi, Ma, you look great. Have you lost weight? I love your hair.' Her mother looked as plump as ever, but her new burgundy-brown hairdo skimmed her face and made her look thinner. Flattery ought to put her in a good mood. Just to be on the safe side, Ondine adopted what she hoped was a pleading look on her face. ‘I . . . I got homesick so I came back.'

Ma stopped mid-stride, mouth open, when she saw the ferret on her daughter's shoulder. ‘Heavens above!
What is that?' She pointed to the ferret with one hand, while the other patted the ample bosom above her heart, as if the beating organ might leap from her chest.

It called for quick thinking on Ondine's part, because her mother could be either furious or happy about the situation. There was often no advance warning of which way the mood might take her.

‘He's really tame. Please, Ma, let me keep him?'

But Shambles was having none of it. ‘That's the one!' he cried out, finally finding his voice. He scurried down the back of Ondine's vest. ‘That's the witch!'

 

1
  One of the former Eastern Bloc countries. Brugel is mostly famous for three things. It has the only hexagonal flag in the world. Its main export is plütz, a tasty yet highly volatile vodka made from peaches. It has also never won the Eurovision Song Contest.

2
  From a strategic point of view, Brugel was so insignificant during World War Two that neither the Allies nor the Axis bothered to bomb it. This is why so many of its old buildings are still standing.

3
  This was during the enormous gimgaw craze, so everyone had them. You won't find them now though.

4
  She'd found him face-deep in her secret stash of Brugelwürst sausage, a local delicacy.

5
  Silly person. Daftie. Gets low grades at school and later in life rarely earns more than minimum wage.

6
  Venzelemma is home to one of the oldest elektrichka train fleets in Europe. Their sparse interiors and spine-jarringly uncomfortable wooden bench seats evoke equal amounts of old world nostalgia and sciatica. Most chiropractors in Brugel are located within hobbling distance of train stations.

7
  Pure denial. Shambles lost his social skills years ago.

8
  An animal form of supernatural spirit, who aids a witch in performing magic. Sometimes they're helpful, but in most cases they're useless. Have you ever seen a cat fetch the morning newspaper? Vacuum the floor? Make breakfast? Exactly.

9
  Neep. Short for turnip.

10
Plütz is Brugel's number one alcoholic export. It is made from fermented peaches, is 32 per cent proof and is the main ingredient in divorce proceedings.

‘I
am not a witch,' her mother said. ‘Ondine, is there a man just out the back door? With a Scottish accent?'

A sick little feeling settled in Ondine's stomach as she took in her mother's pale, shocked face. ‘You heard him?'

‘Yes, I did hear him, and he called me a witch.' Then the crease in Ma's forehead relaxed and the tension in her shoulders fell away. ‘And, by the way, it's lovely to see you.' She moved forwards to embrace her daughter. Around her neck she wore three gold rings with rubies set in them. They flashed in the light as they bounced and jiggled. Just as Ondine thought they might hug, her mother's shoulders hitched again and her eyebrows shot up. She must have seen the
ferret hanging off her daughter's back.