The Autumn Palace (24 page)

‘See for yourself. I think there is a connecting door somewhere – oh, look, if that table is moved, there's a latch to be found. It's either a kitchen or a storage room. It's never been used.'

How bizarre! Ondine grunted as she shifted the table and found the latch. It was easier to see the doorframe now, because she knew what to look for. But if you didn't, you might think it was a shoddy join in the wallpaper.

She turned the handle in the top of the dado and pulled the door towards her. It opened with a groan, as if waking from a hundred-year sleep. Beams of light streaked in through the dusty windows. Ondine found a light switch near the door. Sleepy fluorescent tubes buzzed and flickered into life. The air smelled musty and dry, as if the room had lain undisturbed for decades.

‘Mercury's wings! What a great kitchen!' Ondine walked around, her footsteps stirring up dust motes
on the terracotta tiles as she assessed the room. The old electric oven belonged in a museum. It looked like it had never been touched. When Ondine opened the refrigerator, she held her nose in anticipation of biohazard, but it was empty. The freezer door put up a fight. When it finally came free, Ondine discovered the inside was completely iced up. She leant down and switched it off at the power point.

‘Has anyone ever used it?' she called out to the Infanta.

‘Probably not. Certainly not me.'

Ondine would be able to prepare the Infanta's meals here instead of down in the kitchens. She set to wiping dust off the counters.

The Infanta said, ‘About those biscuits?'

Saturn's rings, does she never let up?
‘Yes, ma'am?'

‘I was thinking. Perhaps the biscuits should be made by me?'

Double-take time. ‘Um, have you ever made them before?'

‘There's a first time for everything.'

Oh dear! ‘OK, then. First thing, take all your rings
off and wash your hands. I'll find us some aprons.' Sure enough, the kitchen had several pantries. Inside one, Ondine found everything she needed except ingredients. Probably just as well, because any food remains would have been supporting new ecosystems by now.

‘I'll head downstairs and get the food.'

In the kitchens she very nearly collided with the Duchess.

‘Ondine? What in heavensh name are you doing here?'

That's right, the Duchess wanted her gone. In her peripheral vision, Ondine saw pale, trembling people who looked as if they'd just been thoroughly told off. Ooops, very bad time to arrive.

‘My Lady Duchess.' She made a quick bow of respect. ‘I came to collect ingredients so I can cook for the Infanta.'

‘Really? She's not happy with the copioush free meals I shupply her?'

Oh dear, the slurring was back and it wasn't even that late in the day. Ondine didn't know where to look,
so she kept her eyes lowered. ‘Your Grace, I can come back later if you like.'

‘You've got one minute.'

Ondine wasted the first ten seconds of that minute in mute shock, before she sprang into action and grabbed a tray. Despite the Duchess's tight rein on food supplies, she at least found enough ingredients to make biscuits and pancakes. A small bag of flour, some butter, sugar, salt – they were easy to find but she needed more. Where was the chocolate and crystallised ginger? The pantry was so neat and ordered, with everything labelled – it was an obsessive-compulsive's dream. She found the ginger but no sign of chocolate. The Duchess hadn't kicked her out yet, so she reached for the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of milk and a couple of eggs.

‘I'm glad I didn't give you two minutesh, you would have cleaned me out,' the Duchess said.

‘Thank you, Your Grace,' Ondine said, before making a hasty bow and an even hastier exit.

‘Was there trouble?' Anathea asked when she returned.

‘Just your sister-in-law keeping an eye on the food supplies.'

‘That woman.' Anathea rolled her eyes and shook her head, making Ondine giggle in shared sympathy.

For the next half hour, she and the Infanta got their hands dirty making pancake batter and biscuits.

‘This is good fun,' The Infanta said.

They had flour all over the counter top and themselves, but they didn't care. Ondine couldn't get over the change in the Infanta. ‘I'll start cooking the pancakes,' she said. ‘Now, the rule is, the first one is always a bit of a mess.'

‘Hah! Just like marriages!' Anathea said.

Ondine laughed, marvelling at this new Infanta and how friendly she could be when the mood suited her. Which sent a little ping of worry through her, because Duke Pavla had instructed her to report everything back to him. What could she say? Your sister's not such a bad old sort after all?

They rolled the biscuit dough into balls and flattened them on the trays with their fingers. They
pressed the ginger pieces in, making patterns and smiley faces.

‘Would you like to lick the bowl?' Ondine wondered if she'd gone too far in this new, informal atmosphere developing between them. How confusing that she should be having such a sweet time with the Infanta while her relationship with Hamish felt like it was falling apart.

‘No, but a cup of tea wouldn't go astray.'

‘I'll get right on it, once I've put the tray in the oven,' Ondine said.

‘No need.' The Infanta placed her hand lightly on top of Ondine's. ‘The pot of tea shall be made by me.'

Ondine wasn't sure if she could cope with any more surprises.

The Infanta washed her hands, removed her apron and walked back to her rooms. Ondine remained in the kitchen, humming a quiet tune as she scraped the messy pancake off the pan and started a new one. Giving in to temptation, she had a bite. Ugly but delicious!

The sound of footsteps in the other room were
followed by Duchess Kerala's strident voice: ‘Why are you not bowing to your bettersh?'

The demand for obedience had Ondine recalling her hideous encounter with Lord Vincent. Although she couldn't see the Infanta, Ondine assumed Anathea made some kind of bow, because she heard the Duchess say, ‘Thash better.'

‘Your Grace, by what honour do I have the privilege of our meeting today?' the Infanta said.

‘The Duke has inshtructed me to invite you to the Harvesht Ball,' the Duchess said in a tone that could only be described as pained.

‘My brother is the very milk of human kindness,' Anathea said.

Ondine remained in the kitchen. Hiding away seemed the safest bet as she listened to the women trying to be civil to each other.

‘I trusht you will behave yourself this year,' the Duchess said.

‘I shall be the very model of gracious behaviour.'

‘Good. That is all.'

When the Infanta came back to the kitchen, she
had a scowl on her face. An actual scowl! Her neatly plucked eyebrows were clamped down and there were ridges in her forehead. ‘Oh, that woman! Comes in here soaked to the gills and tells me to behave myself! She should be pushed down the stairs. She's so drunk everyone would think it an accident.'

‘Mmm,' Ondine said as non-committally as possible. All the while uncharitable thoughts crisscrossed her head. She found herself completely agreeing with Anathea. On the other hand, the Infanta wanting to cause harm to the Duchess meant she finally had something useful to tell the Duke. Even if it was only an empty threat. But what should she do? Save her skin or save this new-found friendship?

When the biscuits and pancakes were ready, they sat down together and ate them, with the pot of tea the Infanta made. The tea wasn't awful, as such, but Ondine knew she could make better. Not that she said so, because Anathea looked really pleased with herself.

‘Come here, Biscuit,' the Infanta called to the dog. He bounded on to her lap. She dipped her biscuit into her tea and fed it to the dog.

A biscuit for Biscuit.

Ondine couldn't help recoiling when Anathea dunked the rest of the Biscuit-sucked biscuit into her tea a second time.

When Ondine woke up the next morning in her cold room, Draguta was already up and dressed, and about to leave. Ondine had to act quickly.

‘Wait. I need to tell you something,' she said.

‘Oh yes?' Draguta's shoulders slumped. ‘Don't make me late. Duchess is more horrible than usual.'

‘Try not to be upset,' Ondine said.

‘Impossible. I am upset.'

Oh dear. Ondine gulped. Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I know about your teddy.'

The woman's eyes turned to ice. ‘Why you say “teddy”?'

There seemed little point in pretending ignorance. ‘I didn't mean to pry. I found out by accident. I was feeling really fragile after I'd had that fight with Hamish and I gave your teddy a cuddle because he looked soft and warm. But he was all lumpy.'

‘You snoop!' Draguta leapt back to her bed and grabbed the stuffed toy, giving it a squeeze to make sure its contents were in place.

‘No, it wasn't like that!' This was all going so badly! Ondine wrapped a thin dressing gown around herself to keep out the early morning chill. ‘I found out by accident . . . but . . . I couldn't help wondering . . .'

‘Why I am thief?' Draguta placed the teddy under her pillow.

‘I won't tell anyone.'

‘Hah! Have not lasted years in palace by trusting sweet-face girls.'

If Draguta had smacked her she couldn't have hurt her more. ‘But we're friends,' Ondine said, caught in confusion.

‘I have no friends,' Draguta said.

Before she could think, Ondine blurted, ‘But that's terrible!'

‘Ack! Don't look full of sorrow.' Draguta shook her head, put her hands on her hips and paced the room a bit. She threw her hands in the air and said, ‘Ack! I grow soft. Kerala sacked me before. One month before
last long service. She found me . . .' she looked up, as if asking the heavens for guidance. Or forgiveness. ‘Was private. Duchess found me. She said instant dismissal. I left, no savings. Came back two weeks later and begged for old job. Ha! Thought Duchess kind to let me back. At first. Then people talk. I put it all away in here,' Draguta tapped the side of her head. ‘It was set-up, Duchess sacked me to save money. I know she will do again, I waiting for axe to fall. Teddy is compensation.'

‘Oh, Draguta, I'm so sorry.' Ondine moved in for a hug, fully expecting a rebuff. Instead, Draguta threw herself into Ondine's arms. All sharp angles and pointy bits.

Draguta wiped her face. ‘Looks bad, but I never steal. I draw line at that. Never take money what isn't mine. But if Duchess and silly friends leave things in pockets when throw out washing, I keep. Not big things. Little bits and bobs they not notice. Is not stealing. Is collecting.'

They stood on shaky ethical ground. On the one hand the Duchess had schemed to sack someone to save money – stealing Draguta's entitlements with
a workplace loophole. Draguta was stealing by way of opportunity, but they were items that had gone unnoticed by their owners. Is it theft if it falls in your lap and the previous owner doesn't even realise?

‘I promise I won't tell a soul,' Ondine said, thinking about all the people she couldn't tell. It made her heart ache that little bit more to think she couldn't even tell Hamish, because he didn't seem to want to talk to her.

O
ndine sat down on a rickety chair in the ballroom wearing her Cabbage costume for the Harvest Pageant. It was an ugly meringue of a dress, which sapped her confidence. However, it succeeded brilliantly at being a fabric cabbage – all layers of green lace and padded foam built around a succession of hoops. Even the ruffles around her neck looked just like a cabbage's outer leaves.

Ms Kyryl was on stage, directing the rehearsal. In one hand she held a banana. The moment she finished eating it, she called for a lunch break.

Ondine nibbled on a cheese sandwich made from crusts of rye loaf. She looked over to see Ms Kyryl peel her jam sandwich apart and add anchovies and potato crisps to it.

Ondine lost her appetite.

Over by the doorway, a small ferrety shape darted behind the curtains. The shape moved to a quiet corner behind the stage. Any moment now, he'd dive into the costume trunk and transform into his lovely self.

‘Oh, there ye are, lass,' Shambles said from behind a prop tree.

Why didn't he grab some clothes and become human? Ondine gave thanks for small mercies that at least he was talking to her again.

Keeping her voice low so as not to attract attention, Ondine murmured, ‘Hamish, I'm sorry for everything I said before. I really am.' Perhaps using his proper name would encourage him to be his proper self?

He shifted back and forth on his paws and looked at the ground. ‘Aye, ye cut me good. I was only trying tae help ye, lass.'

‘I know, but . . . I was really upset.' Ondine fidgeted with her cabbage costume. ‘I thought maybe you might say sorry for making me so upset.'