“Goodness!” gasped Silas.
“What nerve!” said Jenna. She snatched up the rapidly cooling sausage bucket from the doorstep.
“Lovely.”
“Ta.”
“Not eaten all day.”
“Been a bit of a hike.”
“How are you, Silas?”
“Have we missed the wedding?”
“Can we come in?”
“Perishing out here.”
Silas looked flabbergasted. He stood back and let the two scruffy tramps in. Jenna was not particularly surprised; Silas had some weird friends.
“I’m off upstairs, Dad,” she said, setting off across the hall.
Silas collected himself. “Jenna! Wait a minute.”
One of the twins elbowed the other. “See. It is her. Told you.”
“Dad, I need to go,” said Jenna, already on the staircase. “The sandwiches are getting cold.”
“Well, come and say a quick hello before you rush off. This is Ernold and Edmund. Your uncles.”
“My uncles?”
“Yes. My brothers. You know, the two that didn’t make it to our Simon’s wedding? Gosh, I haven’t seen them since before . . . well, since before all the stuff happened.”
It was on the tip of Jenna’s tongue to tell Silas that the two rude old men were not actually her uncles and were nothing to do with her, but she knew how much that would hurt Silas. She bit back the words and hurried down the stairs—the sooner she said hello, the sooner she could get the sausage sandwiches up to where they belonged.
Jenna held out her hand, keeping her distance from Ernold and Edmund. They looked, she thought, like the sort of uncles who would lunge at you for a sloppy, sausage-sandwich-scented kiss. The very thought made Jenna feel sick. But Ernold and Edmund behaved themselves. They meekly shook Jenna’s outstretched hand and mumbled:
“Sorry we . . .”
“Didn’t recognize you.”
Jenna slipped into gracious Princess mode. “Please don’t worry about it. I didn’t recognize you either. I hope you will excuse me; I have to go. I have some people waiting for me,” Jenna said, making it sound as though she were returning to a board meeting. She picked up the bucket of sausage sandwiches and, carrying it as though it were a precious heirloom, she gracefully ascended the stairs. As soon as she was out of sight, Jenna broke into a run. Thirty seconds later she hurtled into her room yelling, “Sausage bucket!”
20
WITCHERY
“You certainly know how to throw a good party, Jen,” Septimus said many hours later, as they led the revelers out along the shadowy upstairs corridor.
“Thanks, Sep!” Jenna was buzzing with excitement; it had been a wonderful evening. As the guests made their way out along the candlelit corridor, an assortment of Palace ghosts—old servants, ancient officials and a few of the more sociable Queens and Princesses—looked on approvingly. The Palace was beginning to return to its old, lively self.
The party giggled its way down the sweeping stairs, out of the Palace and into the snow, where the icy night air hit them. With their breath hanging in the freezing air, they walked slowly across the broad plank bridge that led over the iced-up Palace moat, gazing at the strangely beautiful forms of the snow sculptures sparkling in the light of a full moon; the sight gave rise to a chorus of “wow” and “hey” and “spookieeeeeee” as everyone stopped and gazed. Some of the boys began a snowball fight and Jenna got out of the way. She found herself standing next to Beetle, who was laughing about something with Marissa.
Jenna tried to think of something interesting to say but couldn’t. Beetle tried to as well, with the same result. Marissa, however, had no such problem. “Hey, Beetle; are you walking back to the Manuscriptorium?”
“Yep,” said Beetle.