‘You must be starving, you poor things,’ Tippie MacGregor said as she rifled through the pantry. She was searching for something that the children might like to eat while they waited for the pizzas to arrive.
Kensy shook her head, though she had felt her stomach grumble earlier in the taxi. They’d stopped in at home for a few minutes on their way to the MacGregors’ townhouse in Chelsea so the twins could throw some clothes and toiletries into a bag. Mr MacGregor had insisted on coming inside – just in case they needed any help – even though part of their agent training included putting an overnight bag together in under five minutes.
He’d also mentioned several times that it would have been much easier for him and Tippie to stay in the guest room at Ponsonby Terrace for the night rather than uprooting the twins, but Ed hadn’t been at all keen on that idea.
Kensy had thought their house had felt cold and empty – strange. Song was staying at their grandmother’s place at Wilton Crescent while things were investigated. The girl still didn’t believe that Sidney had anything to do with the incident. There had been something roiling around in her mind – Granny had said a few days ago that Sidney was off his game; that he’d done some odd things. She must remember to tell her father next time they spoke.
Tippie set two glasses of lemonade in front of the twins and poured a bag of crisps into a bowl. A fluffy white cat curled its tail around her legs and she gave the creature a quick pat.
‘Sorry, we’re not used to having youngsters in the house. I hope this is okay,’ the woman apologised, and smoothed some invisible creases from her white skirt. ‘It’s usually just me, Magoo and Mr Pippin.’ She motioned at the feline, who had taken up residence on the chair at the end of the table.
‘It’s perfect,’ Max said, looking up at the woman. ‘Thank you.’ He leaned over and gave the cat a rub on the head.
‘Hello, puss,’ he said, his kindness repaid with loud purring. ‘He’s a lovely fellow.’
‘Until midnight,’ Tippie said, rolling her eyes. ‘Then he turns into an evil monster who likes to tap dance around the house. I’m afraid we have to lock him in the utility room or no one gets a wink of sleep.’
‘Sleeps all day and parties all night,’ Max said.
‘That’s exactly right,’ Tippie said.
The front doorbell buzzed and Magoo called out from somewhere down the hall that he would get it.
Under normal circumstances the twins would have been intrigued to see inside their headmaster’s home, but tonight was far from normal. Neither had paid much attention to the place, still lost in their own thoughts about their grandmother and how she’d come to be poisoned.
‘Your grandmother is a fighter,’ Tippie said. ‘She’s beaten all comers before.’
Kensy wondered exactly what Tippie meant by that. Had there been other attempts on Cordelia’s life? The child couldn’t reconcile the idea that someone had got to her grandmother at work – a place that should have been safe. Then again, the Meyer twins and their gang had infiltrated the Beacon office a few months ago to hack the company’s servers, so clearly it wasn’t the fortress Kensy had previously thought.
At the clinic, Kensy and Max had stood with their father, watching as their mother and Dr Foster hovered over Cordelia, observing closely for any signs that their antidote was working. But it would likely be days before the woman woke up – if she did at all.
‘Pizza time,’ Magoo announced as he walked in and plonked four boxes down on the middle of the kitchen table.
Max helped himself to a small piece but Kensy shook her head.
‘Come on, Kensington, you have to eat something. Your grandmother wouldn’t want you moping about going hungry. She’s a tough old bird. If anyone can survive an attack from the Russians, it’s her,’ the man said, tucking into a huge slice of pepperoni pizza.
Kensy looked up from the empty plate in front of her. ‘How do you know it was the Russians?’
Magoo thought for a moment. ‘I suppose we don’t,’ the man replied. ‘That’s just where the poison was created. These days I imagine it’s sold to the highest bidder, so in effect we could be dealing with anyone.’
That was cold comfort, considering the number of miscreants who might want to harm the head of both Pharos and one of the country’s largest newspapers.
Tippie MacGregor poured a glass of red wine each for herself and her husband and sat down to join them. Mr Pippin jumped off his chair and headed down the hallway.
‘How long have you known Sidney?’ Max asked.
Tippie held her glass in the air. ‘Forever,’ she said.
Magoo nodded. ‘As I understand it, the brothers began to work for your grandfather when they were all young men. Incredible agents, the pair of them, and they certainly brought a lot to the table when it came to training the younger generations. I hear Song has been instrumental in your skill development.’
‘He’s amazing,’ Kensy said. ‘And I don’t believe for one second that Sidney had anything to do with Granny’s poisoning.’
Tippie looked across the table at her husband, a blonde curl escaping from the chignon at the back of her head. She pushed it behind her ear. ‘Innocent until proven guilty,’ the woman said. But there was something about the way her mouth twisted that made Max uncomfortable. It almost seemed as if she was trying to suppress a smile – which wasn’t charitable in the least.
Max stared at a framed sign that hung above the old fireplace. The lettering on the piece made no sense. ‘What does that say?’
Kensy glanced up and Magoo and Tippie swivelled to see what Max was looking at.
‘Oh, that’s just another one of Magoo’s coded messages,’ Tippie said with a grin. ‘He’s obsessed with them – has been since he was a boy, haven’t you, darling? I think he owns the world’s most comprehensive collection of books on the subject.’
Max nodded. Of course it was. His mind went to the note he’d taken from Mr MacGregor’s study at school ages ago – the one that he and Kensy had been trying, and mostly failing, to decipher. So far they’d managed to make out their own names, the words ‘birthright’ and ‘Song’ and a rather troubling line at the end: ‘Romilly must be stopped’ – which they had worked out during their recent mission in Switzerland – though they still had no idea what it was she had to be stopped from doing. Max wondered where Mr MacGregor kept this incredible collection of coding books – maybe he’d get some more clues if he could take a look. There was something about the lettering on the wall that was vaguely familiar.
‘Perhaps you two can work it out,’ Magoo said. ‘You’re both already pretty accomplished code crackers. Actually, I can’t imagine you’ll get it. You’d have to be nigh on experts to break my ciphers.’
Max took that as a challenge, while Kensy simply rolled her eyes. A heavy silence descended over the group for the next few minutes. The distant sounds of traffic were the only discernible noises other than Mr MacGregor chewing his food – which was grating on Kensy’s nerves. She stood up and pushed her chair back.
‘May I go to bed, please?’ she asked abruptly.
Max frowned at her. He hadn’t managed to eat more than a small slice of margherita pizza, but his sister hadn’t touched her food at all.
‘Kensy,’ the boy berated. He didn’t like being here any more than she did, but there was no need to be rude.
‘It’s fine, Max. You’ve both had a terrible shock and it’s been a very long day. I’ll show you to your room.’ Tippie folded her napkin and set it on the table beside her plate then stood up. ‘I’m afraid our home isn’t palatial. You’ll have to share the spare bedroom.’
‘Yes, it would have been far more comfortable if we’d just come to stay with you at Ponsonby Terrace,’ Magoo said. There was something about his tone that sounded truly miffed.
‘We’re used to it,’ Max said. ‘Before we came to live in London, Kensy and I shared a room everywhere that we lived. You should have seen some of the shoeboxes we squeezed into. Alpine accommodation isn’t always the most generous – especially not for staff.’
‘Except Granny’s chalet in Zermatt,’ Kensy said. ‘That’s incredible, but I suppose you’ll get to go there one day.’
Magoo’s lips puckered. ‘Why would you think that, Kensington?’ the man asked.
‘She lets agents stay in her houses, doesn’t she?’ Kensy said.
Magoo raised his eyebrows at his wife and the pair grinned. ‘Let’s just say that not all agents are created equal,’ he replied.
Kensy wondered what the headmaster meant. Mrs Vanden Boom had said something to her a while ago about there being others in Pharos who curried more favour. At the time she’d thought the woman was talking about Tippie’s close relationship with her grandmother, but now it sounded like that might not be true at all.
Max’s eyelids were getting heavy and he was having a hard time concentrating on chewing his food. The boy stood up.
‘Sorry, but if you don’t mind, sir, I think I should go to bed too. We’ve got to be up early for school. Thank you for dinner,’ Max said.
The twins picked up their overnight bags that they’d stowed in the corner of the kitchen and followed Tippie upstairs.
She pointed things out on their way. ‘The bathroom’s just off the landing and Magoo and I are there.’ She gestured at a closed door. ‘Don’t worry – we have an ensuite, so you won’t run the risk of bumping into your headmaster in his pyjamas during the night. I imagine that’s not a savouring thought.’
They walked to the other side of the upstairs hall. ‘This is yours,’ she said, and pushed open the door to a small bedroom where a double bed took up most of the floor space. A built-in wardrobe, a chest of drawers and one bedside table occupied the rest of the room.
‘I really don’t understand why your father was so adamant that you should come here to us. Not that we mind having you, of course, but it would have been far more comfortable for you at home – and I’m sure your parents must have a lovely guestroom,’ Tippie said.
‘It’s fine,’ Max said, ‘thank you.’ He noticed Kensy roll her eyes and turn away. She’d been doing a lot of that since they arrived. Ed had told the twins exactly why he didn’t want Magoo and Tippie in their home, and although the twins would rather have slept in their own beds, the last thing they needed was to be worried about their headmaster poking his nose where it wasn’t welcome.