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“That’s what I thought,” I muttered, closing the door quietly behind me.
* * *
WHEN I ARRIVED at the breakfast table, I noticed at once that Charlotte was missing.
“The poor girl is sick,” said Aunt Glenda. “A slight temperature and a bad headache. I should think it’s the flu that’s going around. Can you make our apologies for your cousin at school, please, Gwyneth?”
I nodded grimly. Flu—that was a real laugh! Charlotte wanted to stay here so that she could search my room in peace.
The same idea had obviously occurred to Xemerius, who was crouching in the fruit bowl on the breakfast table. “I told you she isn’t stupid.”
And Mr. Bernard, coming in with a plate of scrambled eggs, gave me a warning glance.
“These last few weeks have been too upsetting for the poor girl,” said Aunt Glenda. Nick snorted rudely, but our aunt ignored him. “No wonder her body is crying out for time off now.”
“Don’t talk nonsense, Glenda,” said Lady Arista sternly, sipping her tea. “We Montroses have the stamina to stand up to much worse. Personally,” she added, straightening her thin back, “I have never had a single day’s sickness in my life.”
“To be honest, I don’t feel too good myself,” I said. I didn’t, particularly when I remembered that there was no way to lock my bedroom door from the outside. Like almost all the doors in our house, it had only an old-fashioned bolt to lock it on the inside.
My mother immediately jumped up and put her hand on my forehead.
Aunt Glenda rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that just typical! Gwyneth simply can’t bear not to be the center of attention.”
“It feels cool.” Mum actually took hold of the tip of my nose as if I were five years old. “And this is dry and warm, just as it should be.” She stroked my hair. “I can spoil you at the weekend if you like. We could have breakfast in bed—”
“Ooh, yes, and you can read us the Peter Rabbit stories like you used to,” said Caroline, who had the pink crochet pig on her lap. “Then we’ll feed Gwenny chopped-up apple and make her cold compresses.”
Lady Arista placed a slice of cucumber on her toast, where she had already neatly stacked sliced cheese, ham, tomato, and scrambled egg. “Gwyneth, you don’t look in the least unwell. You look the picture of health.”
Would you believe it? I was so tired that I could hardly prop my eyes open, I looked like something a vampire had bitten—and now this!
“I shall be in the house all day,” said Mr. Bernard. “I can make Miss Charlotte chicken soup and look after her.” Although he was speaking to Aunt Glenda it was meant for me, and I understood him only too well.
Unfortunately, Aunt Glenda had other plans for him. “I can look after my own daughter, Mr. Bernard. I want you to go to Walden-Jones to collect my orders and Charlotte’s costume for the party.”
o;Krav Maga is an Israeli martial arts technique, and very effective,” Charlotte informed me. “I could flatten you with a kick to the solar plexus. Or I could break your neck with a single blow!”
“And I could call for help!” So far our conversation had all taken place in whispers, and it must have sounded like two snakes talking: hiss, hiss, hiss.
What would happen if I brought everyone else in this house on the scene? It would probably keep Charlotte from breaking my neck, but then everyone would know what I was carrying wrapped in my bathrobe.
Charlotte seemed to guess my thoughts. She laughed scornfully as she came closer, dancing about on tiptoe. “Go on, then, scream!”
“I would if I were you,” said Xemerius.
But I didn’t have to after all, because Mr. Bernard appeared behind Charlotte. As usual, he seemed to materialize out of nothing. “Can I help you young ladies in any way?” he asked, and Charlotte spun around like a scalded cat. For a fraction of a second, I thought she was going to kick Mr. Bernard in the solar plexus, purely as a reflex action, but luckily she didn’t, although her toes were twitching.
“I sometimes feel hungry in the night myself. I’d be happy to make you a little snack, since that’s what I’m off to do anyway,” said Mr. Bernard, impassively.
I was so relieved to see him that I burst into hysterical giggles. “I’ve just been doing that very thing,” I said, jerking my chin at the bundle I was clutching to my breast. “But the Karate Kid here is suffering from low blood sugar. I bet she urgently needs a snack.”
Charlotte strolled very slowly back to her room. “I’ll be keeping my eye on you,” she said, pointing her forefinger accusingly at me. She looked as theatrical as if she were about to declaim something dramatic. However, all she said was, “And on you too, Mr. Bernard.”
“We’ll have to be careful,” I whispered when she had closed the door of her room and the corridor was dark again. “She’s trained in Taj Mahal.”
“That’s not a bad one either,” said Xemerius appreciatively.
I held my bathrobe firmly. “And she suspects something! She may even know exactly what we found. She’s sure to tell the Guardians tales of us, and when they hear that we—”
