Ondine (23 page)

‘New Zealand? Where's that?'

‘Not sure, but I think it's really far away.'
⁷¹

‘Oh.' Ondine poured herself a mug of milk and put it in the microwave. ‘It's just . . . I thought Hamish liked it here.'

‘He likes
you
, that's for sure.'

A smile stole through, despite her pitiful mood. ‘You think so?'

Melody laughed. ‘Ondi, stop hunting for compliments. Hamish really does like you. And I know you like him.'

‘So why is he leaving?' She nearly added the word ‘me' at the end of the sentence, but reined it in just in time.

Melody shrugged so hard her shoulders nearly smacked her ears. ‘Go ask him that.'

That's the problem. I can't ask him because I don't want to know the answer
. Cold dread weighed her down.
Maybe he's leaving because he wants to get away.

She didn't let her thoughts add the words ‘from me' at the end of that sentence either.

‘You're scared, aren't you?'

‘Melody, stop reading my thoughts.' It was so annoying when her friend was right.

‘I'm not, but it's pretty obvious what you're thinking. Ondi, you're going to have to ask him why he's leaving. If you do, you'll know why. If you don't, you never will.'

A heavy and overly dramatic sigh worked its way out of Ondine. ‘You're right.'

The toothiest grin split Melody's face. ‘Course I am. Anyway, your dreams aren't the only ones I visit.'

‘No! You don't go into Hamish's dreams, do you?'

‘I know he dreams about you.' Melody smiled even more, then seemed to realise how inappropriate it was and had the grace to look chastened.

‘That's a terrible invasion of privacy!' Ondine grinned. ‘What were they about?'

Ping!
went the microwave.

‘Your milk's ready.' Melody fidgeted for a bit. ‘Why don't you take it to Hamish? I think he's having trouble sleeping tonight as well.'

It was a good idea. All the excitement of the night would make it hard for anyone to sleep. Taking him a cup of warm milk would make her appear thoughtful and considerate of Hamish's situation. And if anyone saw her near his room and asked her what she was doing there, she'd have a believable excuse.

‘Thanks, Mel. Now, no more sneaking into people's dreams.' Ondine made for the door, then wondered which way to turn. The ferret Shambles might be somewhere cosy, but where would the man Hamish be?

‘Your ma's got him sharing a room with Thomas and Chef down the hall in number thirteen,' Mel said without needing to be asked.

‘Thanks.' Stepping quietly so she didn't wake anyone else, Ondine made her way to room thirteen. Another problem stacked on to the already teetering tower of problems – how would she speak to him in private if Chef and Thomas were in there as well?

Or worse. What if the three of them were sound asleep and she woke the wrong person in the dark?

She stood outside room thirteen for a good minute, working out whether she should knock or just try and open the door as quietly as she could.

‘What are you doing here?'

Gulp!
It was Cybelle walking towards her. ‘I just . . . I need to speak to –'

‘Get back to bed or I'll tell Ma you were down here,' Cybelle said.

Great, so her sister was still cross with her. ‘I'll tell her you were down here too. Then we'll both be in the same amount of trouble.'

‘Except you're still grounded, so you'll be worse off.'

Gulp! She's right!

They were so busy trading quips Ondine didn't notice the door open. ‘Evening, ladies.' Hamish stood
there, wearing Da's old pyjamas and the wickedest grin she'd ever seen. It made her insides go all melty.

‘
Kh
.' Cybelle made a disparaging sound. ‘You two are hopeless. Is Henrik in there?'

‘Aye.' Hamish may have been answering Cybelle as he stepped aside to let her through the door, but he kept his eyes firmly on Ondine.

Melty, melty, melty.

‘I, um.'
Why is this so hard?
‘I couldn't sleep.'

‘Can't blame ye really. Neither can I.'

‘I have hot milk.' She held up her cup to show him.

Hamish beamed. ‘Yer a thoughtful lass.' He tilted his head, indicating they should take a walk up the hallway to the lounge.

Miracle! Ondine's legs worked and she followed him. As they neared the private room by the kitchen, Hamish stepped back and whispered, ‘This one's taken.'

Ondine craned her neck. ‘Oh.' Marguerite and Thomas were talking quietly in there.

‘The garden?' Hamish said with a shrug.

Still holding her cup of milk, Ondine followed him to the garden. The balmy summer night wafted the
scent of evening jasmine around them.

‘This looks like a good spot,' Hamish said.

How sweet that he chose the same place where they'd shared That Beautiful Kiss. There was another part of the garden she didn't care for, where Lord Vincent had been such a pig. As if reading her thoughts, Hamish guided Ondine to sit with her back to the offending place so she wouldn't have to look at it. He took the cup of milk from her hand and placed it on the ground, then held her hands in his. Warmth spread through her at his touch.

The lovely surroundings should have given the ensuing conversation a dreamlike quality, but when she spoke, it all came out in a rush. ‘Please don't go and work for the Duke.'

Seconds passed. All he did was look at her in that way of his and her heart felt like it was breaking against her ribs.

‘Why not?'

‘Because . . . because you don't have to. I'm sure Da would give you a job here if you asked him.'

‘And take advantage of his hospitality? Nah. I've done that long enough.'

‘But you're good. I mean, you won the tips competition easily. You charm the customers and everyone.'

‘I appreciate the vote of confidence, but working for the Duke would be a great opportunity for me. Surely ye see that?'

‘Yes, but . . .' Things twisted inside her, and it hurt to breathe. In her head, she played out a few scenarios.

Things in her favour – the darkness and the fact that Hamish would be leaving.

Things not in her favour – the darkness and the fact that Hamish would be leaving.

If she told him she loved him, and he stayed, it would be wonderful. If she told him she loved him and he left anyway, she'd die from a broken heart.

But if she didn't tell him she loved him, he would definitely leave. She didn't even want to think about what she'd tell her school friends when the new term began. They'd ask about how she spent her summer holidays and she'd burst into tears.

Heat raced up her neck. ‘Hamish . . . I . . . I think I love you.'

Hamish leant forward and pressed his warm lips against hers, sending flurries through her. That bashing sound in her head was her pulse roaring into life. When he pulled away, her eyes were still closed.

‘Ondine, I love you right back.'

‘Oh, Hamish!' She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.
What bliss, everything was going to be OK after all
.

‘But I have to leave.'

‘
What? No!
' With a thud Ondine fell back into her seat and stared at him. This was not going the right way! ‘That's not how it works! I just bared my
soul
to you. I've never done that
ever
, and you say you're leaving
anyway
?'

‘Aye.' He tucked a stray hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek with his palm. ‘But knowing ye love me makes it easier. Gives me something to look forward to when I get back.'

‘But . . . you don't need to leave in the first place. I know it's treason to say this,' she lowered her voice
on the off-chance someone might overhear, ‘but I've gone right off the Duke. I don't like the sort of job he's offering you.'

‘What's nawt to like? I get to ferret around and make sure no trinkets end up in the wrong people's pockets.'

‘It just doesn't
sound
right, that's why. He's a Duke. He's loaded. Why doesn't he install security cameras instead?'

Hamish cupped Ondine's cheek again. ‘It's nawt really about the job description, is it? More the fact I'll be away that's upsetten ye.'

‘I suppose so.' His warm hand felt so good she almost forgot her own mind.

‘Ondi, I do love ye. Taking a job with the Duke is the perfect way for me to show ye how much.'

‘What?' It made no sense at all. He loved her so he was leaving?

‘Hear me out. It's been a long time since I was a real man. I want to get it right. That means being responsible. Getting a real job. Staying here, by the grace and favour of yer parents . . . that's nawt being
responsible. Taking a real job with the Duke of Brugel will prove to yer parents that I'm worthy of ye. I'll be a man for the first time in me life.'

‘But . . . the Duke wants you to be a
ferret
.'

‘Aye, Ondi, we all have to make sacrifices.'

Heat burned the back of her eyes. Her vision blurred and a hot tear splashed down her cheek.

Jupiter's moons, now I'm crying like a nine-year-old.

‘Ach, dry yer eyes. I'll nawt leave tomorrow. He doesn't need me until September. We've still got the rest of the summer, and then I'll only be across town. I'll come and visit whenever I can.'

‘Promise?'

‘Promise.'

Ondine threw her arms around Hamish and hugged him tightly. The thought of having to separate shredded her heart, so she wound her arms that bit tighter round him.

In the east, the faint glow of dawn broke the murky night sky.

‘It's morning already,' Hamish said, noticing the change in the light.

‘Maybe we should get inside?' An uneasy little flip began to flop inside Ondine's belly. Last time they'd been here in the garden, as dawn had broken, Hamish had reverted to ferret form.

‘No. Let's see what happens.' Hamish cupped her chin, pulled Ondine closer and kissed her again, making her brain fizz and crackle. Every time their lips met her mind went all fuzzy and she loved it. She loved him. Even better, he loved her.

They pulled apart for a little bit, and checked the sky.

So far so good.

The sun cleared the horizon, bathing the air with the warming rays and colours of a new summer's day.

‘You're still you,' Ondine beamed.

‘Aye. See, being responsible is paying off already.'

‘Good. Kiss me again then.'

He did as he was told and her whole body buzzed with the joy of it.

‘Hamish? Promise me when you're working for the Duke that you'll come back as often as you can?'

‘As long as ye promise to welcome me back like this each time.'

Ondine beamed. ‘That's a very easy promise to make.'

As they kissed into the morning, Ondine banished thoughts of how soon autumn would be upon them. Instead, she focused on the precious few weeks of summer remaining, and the promises they'd made to each other.

Especially her promise about welcoming him back.

 

70
‘Scudded' is so a word. It means ‘thoughts that shoot through'. Just like Scud missiles, sometimes they hit their target with devastating effect. More often than not, they go way off course.

71
New Zealand is about the furthest away from Brugel you can get on the planet. If you try and get any further away from Brugel, you'll start getting closer again.

Thank you, Mum, for helping me grow. (I've found you a really nice nursing home . . . just kidding!)

Thank you to my husband for the constant support and suggestions. Some of them even made it into the book.

Thanks to my incredible agent Suzy Jenvey at PFD and my wonderful editors at Egmont, Leah Thaxton and Rachel Boden, for joining me on this strange journey through Brugel.

E
BONY
M
C
K
ENNA

The decision to leave a career in journalism was a logical choice for Ebony. There wasn't enough time in the day to write the fictional stories she wanted to tell, against the factual that she had to tell. She followed her heart towards writing science fiction, romance and young adult adventures. Ebony now writes full time and lives in Melbourne, Australia, with her husband and young son. She loves trivia nights, train sets and the Eurovision Song Contest.

www.ebonymckenna.com