When I get home, I hear a half-familiar voice coming from the living room. It takes me a second to place it: Shona. Shona? She’s not supposed to be back until tomorrow.
‘My Buddha is still there, thank goodness, and my grandmother’s jewellery,’ she’s saying. ‘All that’s missing is food and some of my clothes. I don’t see what anyone would want with those; they’re hardly Golce and Dabbana.’
She’s sitting on the sofa, wearing a long purple dress and clutching a cup of tea. Her eyes are red from crying. Rani and Dad are nodding along, making sympathetic sounds, but their eyes keep being pulled away: hers to her phone, and his to the laptop. I catch a glimpse of Dad’s screen: footage of the Fall in South Africa the other day, metallic brown feathers and dark gold blood.
Shona gives me a watery smile as I step into the room. ‘Hiya, hen. Sorry, I’m bringing awful negative energy into your living space here – I just got home and my flat’s been burgled. Nothing of value, thankfully, but still quite upsetting.’
‘Oh, no.’ My insides feel like they’ve been tied into knots. ‘That’s awful. I’m really sorry.’
‘It’s just so odd.’ There’s a pause as Shona blows her nose. ‘My mattress was on the living-room table – goodness knows why.’
Dad scrolls down the page and pauses at a photo of a teary-eyed white man clutching a handful of matted red feathers. ‘Maybe just someone looking for a place to stay the night,’ he says absent-mindedly. ‘That’d explain the food and clothes going missing.’
Shona nods. ‘Aye, the police did say it could have been a couple of dossers. You didn’t see anything while you were watering my bonsai, did you, hen? Nobody dodgy hanging around?’
‘No, no one,’ I say. ‘I went the other day. Everything looked fine then.’
Rani looks at me, her eyebrows knitted into a frown. Even Dad glances up. For a moment it looks as if he’s about to say something, but then the laptop makes a pinging sound and his head swivels back to the screen. Shona sighs and takes another long sip of tea.
‘It must have happened today or yesterday, then.’ Her lipstick leaves a mulberry smudge on the rim of the cup. ‘You know, in a way it’s a blessing I wasn’t there. I might have socked the poor sods with one of my elephants and spent the rest of my life in jail.’
She stays a while longer, mulling over possible explanations. My pulse is racing. If we hadn’t moved Teacake a day early, Shona would have caught us right there, feeding her biscuits to a real-life Being. She may be a bit of a hippy, but I wouldn’t trust her to keep Teacake safe. I wouldn’t trust anyone with Teacake, except Allie and Calum.
As she gets up to leave, Shona squeezes my arm.
‘Those gemstones are working wonders on you, hen. Your aura’s much lighter now, a lovely bright orange.’
The amethyst and quartz are still lying under my bunk bed, untouched since she brought them to me two weeks ago.
‘Oh, yeah, thanks. They helped a lot,’ I say. ‘I’ll bring them down to you tomorrow. And I’ll help you tidy up then too.’
I don’t know what makes me say that. Guilt, probably. It’s not like we left her flat in a state on purpose though: I had every intention of popping in tomorrow to tidy up the mess before going back to McEwan Hall.
‘I’ll come too,’ Rani says. ‘It’ll be faster with three of us.’
I stare at her. She smiles sweetly as Shona tells Dad what nice, thoughtful daughters he has, then goes back to browsing Wingpin on her phone.
My heart is still thumping after Shona leaves. That was way too close. And, judging by the way Rani was looking at me, we’re not out of danger yet.
NINETEEN
We left more of a mess in our wake than I’d realized. There are biscuit crumbs and dried teabags on the kitchen counters, streaks of make-up around the edge of the coffee table. Even the ornaments and picture frames that Teacake knocked over are still lying on the carpet. I really don’t know why we didn’t pick them up. I guess tidying just doesn’t seem that important when you’re hanging out with a living Being.
‘Whoever these folk were, they were obviously raised in a barn,’ Shona tuts. ‘Would you look at the state of my settee!’
I nod in agreement and scrub at a Coke stain on the carpet. I keep expecting Shona to spin around, yell ‘J’accuse!’ and thrust her finger towards me like a lawyer in a cheesy American drama. It doesn’t happen. It genuinely doesn’t seem to have occurred to her that the stranger who had her spare key is so obviously the guilty party here. She might be able to see auras, but she can’t see that.
Rani does, though. Rani sees everything.
I’ve felt her gaze following me around Shona’s flat since we arrived. I wish she would just come out and ask me something so I could deny it. I’m a shit liar, but I’m even worse at pretending nothing’s up. My guilt is in every movement, every mumbled response.
‘They could have at least put their rubbish in the bin,’ Rani says, fishing one of Allie’s KitKat wrappers from underneath the table. ‘It’s so rude.’
‘You’re no wrong, hen. Not like you two, eh? So nice of you both, helping me oot like this.’ Shona puts her hands on her hips and surveys the room. ‘Well, I think that’s us just about done. Take the cushion covers off, will you, Jaya? I’ll pop them in the wash.’
I pull them off and spot a hint of pink on orange – one of Teacake’s feathers, lodged down the back of the sofa. My heart leaps, but luckily Rani’s busy rubbing a foundation stain off the coffee table and doesn’t notice me shove it in my pocket.
This was all far, far too close.
It’s ten o’clock by the time we’re done tidying up. According to Allie’s schedule, I’m supposed to be at McEwan Hall for our turn looking after Teacake now. We say goodbye to Shona, politely declining her thank-you gift of some yerba-mate soap, and head outside. I send Allie a quick text to say I’ll be late, then tell Rani I’m going out to meet some friends, trying (and probably failing) to keep my voice light.
‘I’ll be back in a few hours,’ I say. ‘We can go to the dungeons or something after, if you like.’
This time, she doesn’t beg to come with me. She just smiles and skips up the stairs like she’s totally lost interest in whatever we’re up to.
‘OK. See you later.’
I wait until I hear the door close, then hurry downstairs and slip into the crowd. For once, I’m grateful for the mob outside; if Rani does try to follow me, it’ll be easy to lose her in the swarm of tourists and Wingdings. Just to be on the safe side, I take a detour via South Bridge and pop into Tesco to stock up on snacks. I scan the streets before I cross the road towards the university, but I don’t see Rani. Maybe she actually has lost interest – maybe she figured I was just using Shona’s flat as a hangout, or maybe the Fall in South Africa or Dad’s plans were more important to her than whatever I’m up to.
It’s twenty past by the time I get to McEwan Hall, but Allie hasn’t arrived yet. Calum gave me the key to look after last night, so I undo the padlock and slip into the hall. Teacake is perching on top of the organ, posed like a cat about to leap on a mouse. She smiles, her wings twitching in greeting, then leans towards the edge. My stomach lurches.
‘Teacake, no!’
My eyes squeeze shut. In my mind, I hear a branch snapping, a faint ‘oh’ of surprise. I see rushing water and a hand grasping at thin air. I feel my breath catch in my throat, my head start to spin.
But this time, the crash doesn’t come. When I look up, Teacake is gliding smoothly through the air, her legs locked and her arms spread wide as her wings. For a few moments, she is a ship riding a wave, a bird in a sea breeze: all peace and grace, exactly where she’s supposed to be.