“Yes?” he said abruptly as if she were no more than an irritating salesperson.
For a brief moment Marcia was lost for words. She looked past Silas to see a room that appeared to have been recently hit by an explosion and was now, for some reason, packed full of boys. The boys were swarming around a small, dark-haired girl who was sitting at a table covered in a surprisingly clean white cloth. The girl was holding on to a small present wrapped in brightly colored paper and tied with red ribbon, laughing and pushing away some of the boys who were pretending to grab it. But one by one the girl and all the boys looked up, and a strange silence fell upon the Heap household.
“Good morning, Silas Heap,” said Marcia a little too graciously. “And good morning, Sarah Heap. And, er, all the little Heaps of course.”
The little Heaps, most of whom were no longer anything like little, said nothing. But six pairs of bright green eyes and one pair of deep violet eyes took in every detail of Marcia Overstrand. Marcia began to feel self-conscious. Did she have a smudge on her nose? Was some of her hair sticking up in a ridiculous fashion? Perhaps she had some spinach stuck in her teeth?
Marcia reminded herself that she had not had spinach for breakfast. Get on with it, Marcia, she told herself. You’re in charge here. So she turned to Silas, who was looking at her as if he hoped she would soon go away.
“I said good morning, Silas Heap,” said Marcia irritably.
“Indeed you did, Marcia, indeed you did,” said Silas. “And what brings you here after all these years?”
Marcia got straight to the point.
“I’ve come for the Princess,” she said.
“Who?” asked Silas.
“You know perfectly well who,” snapped Marcia, who didn’t like being questioned by anyone, least of all by Silas Heap.
“We don’t have any princesses here, Marcia,” said Silas. “I should have thought that was pretty obvious.”
Marcia looked around her. It was true, it was not somewhere you would ever expect to find a princess. In fact, Marcia had never seen such a mess before in her entire life.
In the middle of the chaos, by the newly lit fire, stood Sarah Heap. Sarah had been cooking porridge for the birthday breakfast when Marcia had pushed her way into her home, and into her life. Now she stood transfixed, holding the porridge pan in midair and staring at Marcia. Something in her gaze told Marcia that Sarah knew what was coming. This, thought Marcia, is not going to be easy. She decided to dump the tough act and start over again.
“May I sit down, please, Silas…Sarah?” she asked.
Sarah nodded. Silas scowled. Neither spoke.
Silas glanced at Sarah. She was sitting down, white-faced and trembling, and gathering the birthday girl up onto her lap, holding her closely. Silas wished more than anything that Marcia would go away and leave them all alone, but he knew they had to hear what she had come to say. He sighed heavily and said, “Nicko, give Marcia a chair.”
“Thank you, Nicko,” said Marcia as she sat down gingerly on one of Silas’s homemade chairs. The tousle-haired Nicko gave Marcia a crooked grin and retreated into the bunch of his brothers, who were hovering protectively around Sarah.
Marcia gazed at the Heaps and was amazed how alike they all were. All of them, even Sarah and Silas, shared the same curly straw-colored hair, and of course they all had the piercing green Wizard eyes. And in the middle of the Heaps sat the Princess, with her straight black hair and deep violet eyes. Marcia groaned to herself. All babies looked the same to Marcia, and it had never occurred to her how very different the Princess would look from the Heaps when she grew older. No wonder the spy had discovered her.
Silas Heap sat himself down on an upturned crate. “Well, Marcia, what’s going on?” he said.
Marcia’s mouth felt very dry. “Have you got a glass of water?” she asked.
Jenna scrambled down from Sarah’s lap and came over to Marcia, holding a battered wooden cup with teeth marks all around the top.
“Here, have my water. I don’t mind.” She gazed at Marcia admiringly. Jenna had never seen anyone like Marcia before, no one as purple, as shiny, as clean and expensive-looking, and certainly no one with such pointy shoes.
Marcia looked at the cup dubiously, but then, remembering who had given it to her, she said, “Thank you, Princess. Er, may I call you Jenna?”
Jenna did not reply. She was too busy staring at Marcia’s purple shoes.
“Answer Madam Marcia, poppet,” said Sarah Heap.
“Oh, yes, you may, Madam Marcia,” Jenna said, puzzled but polite.
“Thank you, Jenna. It’s nice to meet you after all this time. And please, just call me Marcia,” said Marcia, who could not help thinking how much Jenna looked like her mother.
Jenna slipped back to Sarah’s side, and Marcia forced herself to take a sip of water from the chewed cup.
“Out with it, then, Marcia,” said Silas from his upturned box. “What’s going on? As usual we seem to be the last to know over here.”