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“Okay, okay,” Lesley interrupted me impatiently. “You hooked me when you said ‘Grace Kelly.’ So let’s forget the stupid garbage sacks. Do you think your Madame Rossini is awake yet?”
* * *
“HOW DO I LOOK?” Mum pirouetted on her own axis. Since Mrs. Jenkins, the secretary at the Guardians’ Lodge, had phoned this morning asking her to come with me when I went to the Temple to elapse, she’d changed three times already.
“Great,” I said, without really looking. The limousine would be coming around the corner at any moment. Would Gideon be in it to collect me? Or would he be waiting for me at the Guardians’ headquarters? Yesterday evening had ended far too suddenly. There was still so much we had to say to each other.
“If I may say so, I thought the blue outfit was better,” remarked Mr. Bernard, who was dusting the picture frames in the hall with a huge feather duster.
Mum ran straight upstairs again, calling back, “You’re right, Mr. Bernard! This one looks much too formal. Too elegant for a Saturday afternoon. Goodness knows what he’d think. As if I’d prettified myself specially for him.”
I gave Mr. Bernard a reproachful smile. “Did you have to say that?”
“She did ask.” His brown eyes behind the owl-like glasses twinkled at me, but then he looked through the window in the front hall. “Ah, here comes the limousine. Shall I tell the driver he’ll have to wait a little while? She’s not going to find the right shoes to go with the blue outfit in a hurry.”
“I’ll do it.” I put my bag over my shoulder. “See you later, Mr. Bernard. And please keep an eye on You Know Who.”
“Of course, Miss Gwyneth. You Know Who won’t get anywhere near you know what.” With a smile that you would hardly have noticed, he went back to his dusting.
No Gideon in the limousine. Instead it was Mr. Marley, who had already opened the door of the car as I came out of the house. His moonface looked as disapproving as it ever had during the last few days. Maybe even more disapproving. And he said nothing at all in reply to my exuberant, “Isn’t this a wonderful spring day?”
“Where’s Mrs. Grace Shepherd?” he asked instead. “I have orders to deliver her to the Temple at once.”
“Sounds like you were going to bring her up before the magistrates,” I said. If I’d known how close this flippant remark was to the facts, I wouldn’t have felt half as cheerful as I did when I settled into the back seat of the car.
Once Mum was finally ready, the drive to the Temple was quite fast for London conditions. We got stuck in only three traffic jams, it took us fifty minutes, and once again, I wondered why we couldn’t simply take the Tube.
Mr. George met us at the entrance to the Guardians’ headquarters. I thought he was looking more serious than usual, and his smile somehow seemed forced. “Gwyneth, Mr. Marley will take you downstairs to elapse. Grace, you’re expected in the Dragon Hall.”
I looked inquiringly at Mum. “What do they want to see you for?”
Mum shrugged her shoulders, but she suddenly looked tense.
Mr. Marley brought out the black silk scarf. “Come along, Miss Shepherd,” he said. He took my elbow, but let go of it again at once when he saw the look in my eyes. Lips tight, ears bright red, he growled, “Follow me. We have a very tight schedule today. I’ve already set the chronograph.”
I gave Mum an encouraging smile and then stumbled down the corridor after Mr. Marley. He was setting a fast pace, and as usual, he was muttering to himself. He’d have run straight into Gideon around the next corner if Gideon hadn’t stepped aside in time.
“Morning, Marley,” he said casually, as Mr. Marley, a good deal too late, did a little jump. So did my heart, particularly as the sight of me made a smile about as wide as the eastern delta of the Ganges (at least!) spread over Gideon’s face. “Hi, Gwenny, did you sleep well?” he asked affectionately.
“What are you doing up here?” snapped Mr. Marley. “You’re supposed to have been with Madame Rossini ages ago, getting into costume. We really do have a very tight schedule today, and Operation Black Tourmaline forward slash Sapph—”
“You just go on ahead, Marley,” Gideon told him in friendly tones. “Gwenny and I will catch up with you in a couple of minutes. And after that, I can get into costume quickly. That’s no problem.”
tal.
I’d refused to believe what Gideon said at first, because it was so absurd, and my life seemed about to collapse under the sheer weight of all these complications anyway. My mind just wouldn’t face facts.
But deep inside, I’d known that Gideon was right as soon as he said it: Lord Alastair’s sword had killed me. I had felt the pain and watched what little life was left in me simply drain away. I had drawn my last breath—and here I was, alive and well.
The subject of immortality had kept us talking all the rest of the evening. After the first shock, there was no stopping Lesley and Xemerius, in particular.
“Does that mean she’ll never get any wrinkles?”
“Suppose an eight-ton concrete block falls on you, would you have to live forever squashed as flat as a postage stamp?”
“Maybe you’re not really immortal, you just have nine lives, like a cat.”
“If someone put out one of her eyes, would it grow back?”
