The Autumn Palace (6 page)

‘Ah, my dear, that is why we shall be so effective. I am the batty old lady with a pet on her shoulder, and you are an innocent girl. Nobody will suspect a thing.'

‘Right.' Ondine mulled it over. ‘You're being quiet, Shambles.'

‘Aye, I was thinking about Pyotr. Nothing seems to faze him.'

‘Hmmmm,' Ondine said.

Col gave a most disarming smile. ‘You're thinking like detectives already. Nobody should be above suspicion.'

‘In that case, Vincent is still at the top of my list,' Ondine said. ‘Mercury's wings, I've just realised something. Pavla said Vincent had learnt his lesson, past tense. Does that mean he's not at the academy any more?'

‘Oh dear,' Hamish said.

‘Oh double dear,' Col said. ‘He won't be happy that we're here either. We'll have to try our best not to antagonise him. Right, Ondine, you should get back to the laundry. Shambles, we need to dress for dinner.'

Shambles leant over and gave Ondine a whiskery wet smudge on the cheek, but it didn't comfort her at all. If anything, it made her wonder when she'd next see him as proper Hamish again.

 

23
   This kind of thinking began after the Soviet days, during the time of new freedoms and transparency, when ‘everything not expressly forbidden is permitted'. A marked change from the gruelling days of ‘anything not expressly permitted is forbidden'
.

24
   Jacques Delille, 1738–1813. He had loads of friends in high places, but his own father refused to acknowledge him
.

25
   Or watching every episode of ‘
Lie to Me
' and applying it to your real life
.

26
   With a slice of lemon is how Bruglers traditionally take their tea. In some cultures the expression is ‘with a pinch of salt'. This makes no sense at all because tea with salt tastes awful!

H
amish wanted to be human all the time, but he knew the only way to make progress in their hunt for suspects was to remain a ferret and allow people to call him Shambles. He'd much rather be with Ondine in the laundry, but that wasn't an option. He'd also love to be able to talk more, but he exercised extreme control and stayed mute as Pyotr announced Old Col's arrival at dinner.

‘Your Grace, honoured guests, ladies and gentlemen, I present Miss Colette Romano.'

Perched on Col's shoulder and blinking away tears from her strong perfume, Shambles was able to check out the room from human eye-level. Over to one side he noticed two small boys. They were well dressed for their age, wearing cut-down suits like mini-gentlemen.
The boys exchanged sly looks and Shambles instinctively knew they were up to no good.

A waitress offered drinks to some adults near them. One of the boys stuck out his foot and tripped her up. She yelped in surprise, her face filled with horror. Then the most bizarre thing happened. Pyotr, who was standing close by, turned around at exactly the right moment, put his hands out and caught the falling tray. Some of the drink sloshed out, but the glasses didn't fall.

Everyone around them looked momentarily stunned. Pyotr kept his composure and handed the tray back to the grateful waitress. She then carried on serving guests as if nothing had happened, but Shambles could tell by her rapid breaths that she hadn't fully recovered.

No sign of the Duke, which was odd – he'd invited them, so surely he'd be here by now? The Duchess, holding a glass of red wine, approached Col. Suddenly the world dropped from beneath Shambles, and he hung on for dear life.

What the?

Old Col was curtseying! After her graceful bob, things righted themselves and he was back to eye-level again.

‘My Lady Duchess, it is an honour,' Col said.

The Duchess enunciated her words far too carefully as she said, ‘You. Are. Too. Kind.'

Duchess Kerala wore her dark hair in a neat helmet shape. Light bounced off her hair, it was that shiny. The hand holding the glass of wine looked soft and fleshy, as if she'd never performed a manual task in her life.

The waitress appeared and asked the Duchess, ‘Your Grace, may I offer your guest an aperitif?'
²⁷

‘Thank you, but soda water is fine,' Old Col said.

Surprise jolted Shambles. He felt sure Col would help herself to the best of whatever was on offer. The twig snapped – Col wanted to keep a clear head.

The two young boys who had tripped up the waitress were now eyeing Shambles with undisguised glee. Thank goodness he was out of their reach. Oh
great! Old Col decided to walk towards them. In the time it took the thought
I'm still safe up here
to travel from one side of his ferret-sized brain to the other, Col had bent down to the boys' level.

‘Hello, there,' Col said, ‘this is my pet ferret, Shambles. He's very friendly. Would you like to pat him?'

Wrong on so many counts, but if he uttered a word to them it would blow his cover. He turned his head towards Col's ear and murmured, ‘If they pull my tail, I'm out of here.'

‘He's funny looking,' one of the boys said.

One of the little snipes pulled his tail, while the other clonked him on the head with a forceful pat. The impact was so great his teeth crashed together.

From across the room, Duchess Kerala said, ‘Boysh, be gentle.' She didn't take a step closer to intervene; instead another woman stepped in and calmly directed the boys away. Shambles rummaged around in his brain: had the Duchess slurred her words? When she spoke again, he was sure of it.

‘Thank you, nanny. The boysh can have their
dinnersh now,' the Duchess said.

Looking at the boys, Shambles could see them growing into little Lord Vincents, attitude and all. He made a mental note to keep clear of every one of the Duke's offspring, even if he was supposed to be a docile ‘pet'. He scanned the room, but saw no sign of Vincent. He didn't know if that was a good thing or not. If he were here, he could keep an eye on him, but Vincent knew he was a ferret who could turn into a man, and might blow his cover.

At the other end of the room, the double doors opened. A woman wearing a starched white apron over black trousers and a black shirt nodded to the Duchess. The Duchess handed her empty wine glass to the nearest member of staff and announced to the room, ‘Dinner is sherved.'

Shambles licked his chops. Wonderful aromas of caramelised onions, roast meat and crispy potatoes wafted in.

The dining room looked decidedly blue. Blue walls, and in the middle of the room, a long table with a blue-and-white tablecloth. A swift team of waiters, all
dressed in black with starched white aprons, placed several bowls of salad at intervals along the table. The bowls were filled only with green leaves, thin slices of spring onion, shavings of Parmesan cheese and white beans.

Shambles saw the table was set for eighteen. A quick headcount told him there were a couple of spare seats. Hope sprang as he wondered if he might get fed. He'd be extra nice to Col. She'd give him some food. He might even charm some of the guests into feeding him as well. With so many people, and such large silver domes over all the plates, surely there would be plenty of leftovers?

Duke Pavla entered from another set of doors. Everyone bowed their heads as he walked in. He stepped towards Kerala and kissed her tenderly on the cheek. A lump formed in Shambles's throat. They made such a lovely couple. He hoped he and Ondine would still be as affectionate when they were that old.

They stood waiting for the Duke to be seated. To Shambles's surprise, the Duke did not sit at the head of the table. Instead, he chose the centre of one of
the long sides, opposite the Duchess. The seat beside the Duchess was empty, and Shambles wondered who would sit there, if not the Duke?

‘Good evening. As of now, fish will no longer be on the menu. Be seated.'

As soon as the Duke sat down, everyone else followed. The waiters lifted the domes off the plates to reveal the banquet beneath.

Shambles's stomach did a double take.
What tiny amounts of food!

Even for a man the size of a ferret it was a measly serving. Half a boiled egg, sliced. Two slivers of roast chicken, so thin you could see through them. A tiny clump of fried onions. Sautéed courgettes and more of those white beans. Oh yes, and three thin scallops of potato. All arranged in the middle of a large white plate with a thick band of blue around the edge.

‘This better be the entrée,' he murmured to Col as his stomach grumbled.

Old Col coughed, then lifted him off her shoulder and placed him on her lap. It got him out of sight, so he could slip under the table, unnoticed, and
report back on anything he overheard.

Despite the small portions, Old Col came through for him and let a chunk of egg fall from her fork. With a leap he met the food mid-flight and swallowed it before he landed.

Somewhat
recharged, he set to work, ears on alert. Avoiding people's feet became his main priority. Above the table, the dinner guests looked composed and serene, but underneath there was a fair amount of fidgeting and fenudging
²⁸
going on.

Heading for the end of the table, Shambles saw a pair of legs crossing nervously back and forth at the ankles. He strained his ears to snapping point.

‘Murmur, murmur, food, murmur, right, murmur, murmur, tennis.'

Not much help there, so Shambles decided to walk behind the twitching feet and sit directly under the speaker's chair.

‘Murmur, murmur, rule out murmur the food,' one male voice said. ‘Murmur, never enough of it.'

A person sitting beside him gave a low chuckle. ‘Murmur, murmur, Infanta.'

It sounded promising. Shambles listened some more and heard someone whisper, ‘running out of time' and ‘need to move soon' but nothing that made a cohesive whole. A staccato march announced the return of the waiters, who removed the empty plates. He strained to hear more conversation but the sound of feet drowned it out.

Moving about under the table, he searched and listened for more interesting conversations. Someone arrived late and took the remaining empty seat. He recognised the smarmy voice say, ‘Good evening, Mother,' and heard him kiss her on the cheek.

Vincent! Shambles scurried back over the parquet to get away from Vincent's heavy boots. The last thing he needed was to get too close. All the same his ears stayed on high alert as he heard the Duchess mutter to her son, ‘One day, all this will be yours.'

Really now? That was interesting!

Without warning, pain seared Shambles's insides. Panic shot through him. He silently cried out for
Ondine to take away his agony. In his mind, he fixed an image of her sweet face to help him focus. How had this come on so quickly? His black furry arms buckled and bleached and turned into skin. His legs grew and grew. Just in time he pulled himself away from someone's twitching foot. Any moment now, Vincent might drop a fork or a napkin, reach down to get it and see him lying on the floor, bare as the day he was born.

He kept thinking of Ondine. When he angled his head so he could see through the forest of legs, he thought he'd died and gone to heaven. There she was, standing by the door with a tray of steaming hot hand towels. Her proximity must be why he'd changed. Slapping his forehead, he felt like a silly wee daftie! He could be a ferret any time he liked, but when she came near him, he turned human. Or, if he were already human, and she walked off, he reverted to ferret. If he didn't start controlling it soon, he'd be in serious trouble! He also knew if he wanted to do his job properly without detection, he'd have to keep away from her.

Ondine caught a glimpse of him and momentary shock played over her lovely features. Just as quickly, she reset her face, as if she hadn't seen anything at all.

Hamish felt a fresh surge of pride at how well she handled herself, considering the crazy circumstances.

‘Your Grace,' Ondine said, walking towards the Duke.

Galloping agony pummelled Hamish from the inside, but now his biggest worry was fear of discovery. He had to change back or he'd be exposed. All the time he said not a peep, made not a single groan or even a loud panting noise.
²⁹
Watching her feet move around the table and stop at each person was another form of torture. But the motivation to remain undetected overrode all else. Revisiting the pain, he willed his body back to ferret form.

Through blurry vision, he saw Ondine's feet approaching the Duchess and Vincent and nearly miss a step. Oh no, this was hardly the quiet sneaky start he'd hoped they could all make. Vincent now knew
Ondine was here, so they'd have to be extra careful.

Staggering on to his four paws, Shambles wobbled and hobbled back to the safety of Old Col. Lovely meaty aromas assailed his senses. When he looked up, he found a tiny lamb cutlet dangling from her fingers.