Kensy burst into the entrance hall, where she was greeted by the wagging tails of Wellie and Mac, her grandmother’s West Highland terriers. She threw her bag and coat on the parquet floor, then knelt down to give the two a pat and was rewarded with a lick on both cheeks.
Max closed the door and hung their coats on the brass hooks by the door. ‘We’re home!’ he called.
Footsteps thudded up the staircase from the kitchen and Fitz appeared, wearing his gym clothes and covered in a sheen of sweat. ‘Hiya kids. How was school?’ he panted, unfurling the black tape wrapped around his knuckles. ‘I heard about the fire.’
‘Ugh, not you too,’ Kensy grouched. She grabbed her bag and took off up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door when she reached the top.
Fitz turned to Max with raised eyebrows.
‘Good news travels fast,’ Max said, ruffling Wellie’s ears. ‘Who told you?’
‘I had to call Magoo about something and he mentioned it. He also told me that Kensy’s had a few hiccups lately. Were you planning to share any of this?’
Max grimaced. ‘Sorry, Fitz. I didn’t want to dob, and a part of me was hoping it was just a passing phase, like the time in Year One when she decided to call all the teachers at our school in Banff by their first names. I am worried about her, though. It’s as if she’s pushing everyone away, me included, and she can’t get it out of her head that someone’s after us. You know she’s like a dog with a bone when it comes to her theory du jour.’
Kensy’s bedroom door opened. ‘I heard that, Max!’ the girl yelled, before slamming it again.
‘Well, you shouldn’t have been listening! We were talking about you, not to you,’ Max called up the stairs. He took a second to collect himself, then turned back to Fitz. ‘Any news from Mum and Dad?’ he asked. There had only been three brief messages since Rome.
The man shook his head. ‘Not a word. I suspect they’re planning to continue communicating via your watches for the time being. It’s the safest way. Although I must say I had been enjoying your mother’s cryptic notices in the newspaper.’
Max nodded and hurried up the stairs, with Wellie and Mac following at his heels. He paused on the landing. ‘Do you really think Mum’s parents are alive?’ he asked, looking around at Fitz. ‘I mean, they’ve been gone so long. Could it actually be possible?’
After several months now with limited information as to their parents’ whereabouts, Fitz had recently informed the twins that Anna and Ed were searching for Anna’s parents, Hector and Marisol Clement. They were certain that the foul play the Clements had supposedly encountered in their Paris home had been staged. While their house and laboratory had been burned to the ground, with two bodies found inside, Anna and Ed now had evidence that confirmed they weren’t the Clements.
‘You know as well as I do that anything’s possible,’ Fitz said. ‘Your parents and I were supposed to be dead too – and, obviously, we’re not.’
Kensy’s door opened again. ‘Can you two speak up?’ she yelled. ‘Who’s dead?’
Fitz and Max grinned at one another, but before they could respond, the high-pitched whine of a performance-car engine coupled with the screech of brakes brought their conversation to an abrupt end. Max and Kensy ran to her bedroom window and were shocked to see their Uncle Rupert standing in the middle of the road, hunched over the bonnet of a silver Porsche. He was looking uncharacteristically dishevelled, as if he’d literally been kicked out of the vehicle. A woman was behind the wheel, revving the engine and screaming something incoherent.
‘Whoa,’ Kensy sighed, her breath fogging the windowpane. She wondered which evil organisation the woman worked for and did a quick scan of the rooftops opposite in case there might be a black-clad operative pointing a rocket-launcher at him or some such thing. Kensy was surprised to feel a mixture of disappointment and relief to see that the coast was clear of any present danger.
Max unlatched the window and leaned out to get a better look. The wheels of the Porsche spun wildly, smoke billowing behind it. The woman released the handbrake and sped forward. Rupert, executing a textbook sideways roll, dove between two parked cars and escaped the bonnet by a whisker. The car roared to the end of the street and turned left towards the city, the horn blaring in its wake. Rupert stood and dusted himself off. He smoothed his hair, straightened his tie and said hello to an old lady walking by with a puzzled expression on her face.
‘Uncle Rupert!’ Max called, waving wildly.
Kensy batted her brother’s hand out of the way and shoved him aside. ‘Uncle Rupert!’ she yelled, leaning out so far that Max had to grab her by the ankles to stop her from tipping into the street.
The man looked up and smiled. ‘Oh, hello kids. Fancy seeing you here,’ he said, squinting at them. He jogged across the road and was met by Fitz on the footpath.
The twins ran down to meet their uncle. They hadn’t seen him since his brief appearance in Rome. Kensy flung herself around his middle, hugging him tightly. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
‘Darling Kensington, I’m fine. Not a scratch, see?’ Rupert said, amused by the girl’s concern. He nodded at Fitz. ‘Good to see you, old man. I was hoping we’d catch up in Rome, but you disappeared into thin air.’
‘Yes, it was lucky we were both there, wasn’t it?’ Fitz said, his eyes narrowing.
Max didn’t miss the look and wondered what it was about.
‘Who was that in the car?’ Kensington asked. ‘She could have killed you.’
‘She’s not the first woman who’s tried to see me off and I dare say she won’t be the last,’ Rupert said with a grin. ‘She was supposed to drop me at the Beacon, but we had a little disagreement on the way back from lunch and I was ditched en route.’
‘That was your girlfriend?’ Kensy asked. She wasn’t sure if she was horrified or impressed.
Rupert shrugged. ‘I don’t imagine so – not anymore, anyway. Now, who do I have to bribe around here to get a cup of tea? Where’s that uptight butler of yours?’
‘Song’s out,’ Kensy said. ‘But I can make you one.’
Max and Fitz looked at the girl in surprise. Never in their lives had they heard her utter anything remotely resembling that arrangement of words before.
‘Consider yourself lucky, Rupert,’ Fitz said in a slightly wounded tone. ‘Kensy doesn’t make tea for everyone.’
Max scoffed. ‘Kensy doesn’t make tea for anyone.’
‘Well, aren’t I the favourite uncle then?’ Rupert said with a smile. ‘Lead the way, Kensington.’
The group filed into 13 Ponsonby Terrace and followed the aroma of a freshly baked chocolate cake to the kitchen downstairs. Kensy set about filling the kettle while Max cut everyone a slice of cake. To Fitz and Max’s amazement, for the next twenty minutes Kensy barely drew a breath, gabbling on about her theory that someone was out to get them and going into great detail about what had happened when the twins helped capture the Brightside gang before they were properly admitted to Pharos. She even asked Rupert if he knew how Derek could possibly be out of prison already, but her uncle said he had no idea. Instead, it was Song who answered the question on his way down the stairs with the groceries.
‘Ah, Miss Kensington, Derek pleaded that he had no idea what Esme Brightside and his mother and Ivy were up to and the judge surprisingly believed him. Then again, we know he is not exactly a genius, despite his tattoo that would proclaim otherwise,’ Song said as Wellie and Mac danced around his feet. ‘I hope you are enjoying the cake. It’s one of Mrs Thornthwaite’s secret …’ Song stopped on the bottom step and blinked in surprise. Wellie and Mac bundled into the man’s legs. ‘Oh, good afternoon, sir. I didn’t realise we were expecting you.’
‘We weren’t,’ Kensy said. ‘It was a lovely surprise – well, lovely for us, but maybe not for Uncle Rupert since that awful woman kicked him out her car.’
Max noticed Song shoot a look at Fitz and, again, wondered what was going on. Something about their uncle obviously set both men on edge. Song bustled over to the island bench and began to unpack the groceries.
Rupert raised his teacup in the air. ‘Hello old boy. Must be fun living in London town these days, away from the daily grind of Alexandria and all that polishing of silver and dusting of chandeliers – although I don’t suppose it will last forever.’
Song stopped what he was doing for a moment and removed his rimless glasses, before pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Will we have the pleasure of your company tonight, sir?’ he asked.
‘You’re off the hook this time,’ Rupert replied with a wink. ‘I’ve got a story to file before my date this evening, which, I must say, I hope goes better than lunch.’
Kensy looked at the man as if he were mad. ‘Do you really think she’ll be keen to see you for dinner?’
Rupert laughed. ‘Different girl, Kensington. Anyone who tries to run me down in a Porsche Boxter, of all things, is off my Christmas card list.’
‘Good to see you haven’t changed,’ Fitz remarked from where he was leaning against the wall, his muscled arms crossed over his chest.
Smiling, Rupert sat back and folded his arms too. ‘You should get out there yourself, Fitz – have some fun and remember what it’s like to be young again. You do still know how to have fun, don’t you?’
Kensy giggled. ‘I don’t think Fitz would dare,’ she said teasingly. ‘Not after Matisse Mayhew.’
Fitz groaned and cradled his head in his hands. ‘Stop! Not another word!’
‘Please, go on,’ Rupert said, his eyes twinkling. ‘This sounds like it will be a fascinating story.’
‘Mr Fitz, I do believe you have been holding out on me,’ Song added, abandoning the groceries and leaning in.
‘She was our neighbour in Thredbo,’ Kensy began gleefully. ‘And she was always dropping over to borrow this and that, and it was so obvious she was completely in love with Fitz.’
Max nodded. ‘True. I mean, who comes to borrow a cup of sugar in a full face of make-up, a mini skirt and stilettos – especially when you live in a ski resort and it’s close to freezing outside?’
‘Well, you do know what they say – love thy neighbour and all that jazz,’ Rupert said. ‘Did you take her out?’
Fitz scowled. ‘Only once, and it was under duress.’
‘They went to the fanciest place in town and, after a glass of champagne, she pulled out her diary and asked what date would work best,’ Kensy said, stifling a laugh.
Rupert frowned. ‘Date?’
‘For the wedding, of course!’ Max howled. He and Kensy dissolved into fits of giggles. ‘She had it all planned.’
Fitz sighed. ‘Right down to which font she wanted for the invitations. It was a trainwreck.’
‘What a pity, sir. I am sure you would make a very handsome groom.’ Song turned to chortle at the cabbage.
‘Yes, buck up, old boy – at least someone wanted to marry you,’ Rupert said. ‘And she doesn’t sound that bad for a delusional psychopath.’ He stood up from the kitchen table and walked to the sink. ‘Lovely tea, Kensington, but I should make a move. You know, saving the world and all that.’
‘Already?’ Kensy pouted.
‘Sorry, sweetheart, but I’ll see you again soon,’ Rupert said. He gave a wave, then bounded up the timber staircase with Wellie and Mac hot on his heels.
‘Traitors, both of you,’ Fitz said, shaking his head at the twins. He waited to hear the front door close. ‘Rupert won’t be letting me live that one down in a hurry. He’s always been a smug so-and-so when it comes to women. He used to do his best to make me and your father look like complete losers to any girls we were ever keen on.’
‘Sorry, Fitz,’ Max said, smiling from ear to ear. ‘We shouldn’t have said anything. I can imagine Uncle Rupert giving you and Dad a hard time.’
‘That would be the understatement of the century,’ Fitz said.
‘Uncle Rupert can’t help it if he’s a lot cooler than you and Dad,’ Kensy said. ‘Some people are just born that way.’ She blew on her knuckles and rubbed them against her shoulder.
Max rolled his eyes. ‘I know you think he’s amazing, Kens, but if you ask me, Uncle Rupert’s tricky. He talks in riddles half the time and I don’t think he ever says what he really means. And who has two girlfriends on the go at the same time? That’s not very considerate to either woman.’
‘Considerate is certainly not a word I would ever use in the same breath as your uncle’s name,’ Song said, running a colander of string beans under the tap.
Kensy bit her lip. Max had a point. Their uncle was a hard man to get a handle on, and she supposed that was why she found him so fascinating. One minute he was funny and helpful; the next he was making snide remarks and she had no idea whether he was being unkind or just stirring the pot for his own amusement. He was a liar too – she’d seen him tip his entire cup of tea down the sink. She shrugged. ‘I still like him.’
‘Confucius says he who acts with a constant view to his own advantage will be much murmured against,’ Song said, snapping the ends off the beans. ‘And, for as long as I have known your uncle, I do not believe he has ever thought more highly of anyone than himself, except perhaps once and that ended in tragedy.’
‘Song!’ Fitz barked.
The butler glanced up, chastened, then hurried away into the pantry.
Kensy and Max looked at each other. They’d never heard a harsh word spoken between the two men before and wondered what that was all about.