Amelia Dee and the Peacock Lamp (18 page)

Amelia licked a Gooseberry and Almond double cone at the Sticky Sunday, thinking about it. Suddenly she was aware that Eugenie and Kevin had stopped talking. She looked around.

‘Well?’ demanded Eugenie.

‘Well what?’ asked Amelia.

‘You heard me. What do you think?’

‘Ummmm . . .’

Kevin grinned. ‘I don’t think she did hear you.’

Amelia had no idea what Eugenie had just been talking about.

‘Well!’ said Eugenie, and she put her nose in the air. ‘I don’t see the point of going out with your friends if you’re just going to sit there and think your own thoughts.’

‘What am I supposed to be doing?’

‘Listening to ours!’

Amelia sighed. The sad thing was that Eugenie probably believed that.

‘It’s a shame she didn’t get on with the Princess,’ said Kevin to Amelia. ‘They’re so well matched, don’t you think?’

‘I did get on with her!’ retorted Eugenie. ‘You tell such lies, both of you. To listen to you, you’d think she didn’t say a word to me.’

‘Eugenie,’ said Amelia, ‘she
didn’t
say a—’

Eugenie’s hand shot up, palm out. ‘No, I won’t listen to that,’ she said, and she turned her head, and her nose went even higher in the air, if that was possible.

Kevin looked at Amelia. ‘So what were you thinking about just now?’

‘Nothing,’ said Amelia.

Kevin looked at her sceptically. ‘Alright. If that’s what you say.’

There was silence. They licked their ice-creams. Or frozen yoghurt, in Eugenie’s case.

Amelia stared vacantly out the window. ‘Do you think people can change?’ she murmured after a while.

Kevin looked out the window. ‘Who?’

‘No, I mean in general. I don’t know. Anyone.’

Kevin frowned. ‘I think some people can change.’

‘Of course people can change,’ snapped Eugenie, who still wasn’t really talking to them. Except she couldn’t help herself when it came to giving an opinion.

‘Like who?’ asked Amelia. ‘Who do we know who’s changed? Come on. Really changed?’

They all thought.

‘There was that boy in . . . No, sorry,’ said Kevin. ‘Forget it.’

There was silence.

‘What about Estelle Wesselheimer?’ said Eugenie.

‘What about Estelle Wesselheimer?’

‘She changed.’

‘Yeah, but she changed for the worse!’ said Kevin.

‘No one said she had to change for the better,’ replied Eugenie, who was very close to putting her nose back in the air.

‘That’s true,’ said Amelia. ‘So does that mean people can change, but not for the better? Is that what we’re saying? Can’t we think of a single example?’

They all frowned.

‘I’m sure we could,’ murmured Kevin, ‘if we had the time.’

Amelia shook her head. How depressing! They couldn’t think of a single kid who had changed for the better. And if kids couldn’t change for the better, how much less likely would it be for adults, who were set in their ways?

‘Boris Golkov!’ said Kevin suddenly. ‘He changed! Boris Golkov used to pull the wings off flies. Do you remember? When we were in grade three.’

‘He did,’ said Eugenie.

‘He doesn’t any more.’

‘He probably pulls them off birds instead,’ said Eugenie.

‘No, he’s really nice. He doesn’t hurt anything.’

‘So he changed,’ said Amelia. ‘Why? What happened?’

‘His mum almost died in a car accident,’ said Eugenie. ‘She was in hospital for months.’

Kevin shook his head. ‘That was before he started pulling the wings off flies.’

‘It was after.’

‘It was before.’

‘After!’

‘Before!’

‘I think it’s safe to say none of us knows for certain,’ said Amelia.

‘I do,’ muttered Kevin.

‘So do I,’ muttered Eugenie.

Amelia sighed. She crunched into her cone. Even if Boris Golkov had changed for the better – and Amelia wasn’t certain he had, because she couldn’t remember him pulling the wings off flies in the first place – one example of a kid from the third grade was hardly reassuring.

‘Why do you ask, anyway?’ said Kevin.

‘Oh, I was just wondering. You know . . . I was just thinking about the Princess . . .’

‘The Princess?’ Kevin laughed. ‘She’ll never change.’

‘Never,’ said Eugenie.

Amelia looked at them in consternation. ‘Why not?’

‘She’s a bitter old bag. Nothing could change her till the day she dies.’

‘She’s a princess,’ said Eugenie, throwing Kevin a disdainful glance. ‘Princesses don’t change. They don’t need to.’

Kevin rolled his eyes. ‘I suppose she told you that, did she? During that conversation you two had? How long did it go on for again? An hour?’

Eugenie put up her hand. She refused to answer.

‘I don’t know what would have to happen to change someone like the Princess,’ said Kevin to Amelia. ‘An earthquake, probably.’

‘Why should an earthquake change her?’ demanded Eugenie.

‘You’re right,’ said Kevin. ‘It wouldn’t.’

Amelia nodded glumly. It was so discouraging. The truth was so obvious, even Kevin and Eugenie were agreeing! How often did that happen? Amelia felt more ridiculous than ever about expecting the Princess to change, whatever Asha said.

‘What do you think someone like that would do if someone did try to change her?’ asked Amelia quietly.

Kevin laughed. ‘I don’t think you’d want to know!’

Eugenie started laughing as well, then suddenly stopped. Her eyes narrowed. ‘That isn’t what you tried to do, is it?’

‘When?’ said Amelia, as if she had no idea what Eugenie was talking about.

‘The first time you met her. What did happen that day? You never told us.’

‘Nothing happened.’

Eugenie looked at her knowingly. ‘And the lamp? You never told us how you originally came to tell the Princess about the lamp.’

Kevin nodded. ‘That’s right. How
did
you come to tell her about the lamp?’

Amelia didn’t reply. She had just about made up her mind to tell Eugenie and Kevin that she liked to write stories. After all, she had told her parents, and it had turned out to be a lot simpler than she expected. They actually seemed pleased to hear it. But that was probably because they were her parents. And they weren’t the most normal parents in the world, Amelia knew, anyone would have had to admit that. There was no reason to suppose that Kevin and Eugenie would be pleased to hear about her stories. But they wouldn’t necessarily laugh at her. And if they did laugh at her, Amelia had decided, that would just show what kind of friends they were.

Still, it was going to take some courage, and it would be a lot easier if the timing was right. The timing now was just about as wrong as it could be. She had written two stories for the Princess, and each one had just seemed to make the Princess angrier. Telling Eugenie and Kevin about those didn’t seem like a great way to start.

They were still watching her.

Amelia got up. ‘I’m going home.’

‘Are you okay?’ said Kevin.

‘Yes. I’m just going home.’

She left the shop. Kevin and Eugenie left with her.

‘You don’t need to come with me.’

‘It’s alright,’ said Kevin.

Amelia glanced at Eugenie, who raised an eyebrow.

Soon they turned the corner into Marburg Street.

Amelia stopped dead. For a second, she was literally rigid. The scene was exactly as she had imagined it.

There was the cream-coloured car, in front of the green house, with Asha in the front seat, and the Princess waiting in the back.

‘Amelia,’ said Kevin. ‘Are you okay?’

Amelia nodded. But her throat was dry. Her stomach had tightened in a knot. This wasn’t how it was meant to be, this wasn’t how she had imagined herself feeling. But that was because she knew why the Princess was really here. Not for the reasons she had imagined, but to tell her what she thought of her story. To tell her it was a
fenceee
. To tell her what she thought of her impudence, her sheer cheek, in giving it to her. And then, as a result, to demand to take the lamp back.

And all of this in front of Kevin and Eugenie!

Amelia wanted to turn around and run. But it was too late. Asha had seen them. He was getting out of the car. He was putting on his hat.

CHAPTER 24

The old man straightened up, as much as he could, to face the three children.

‘Mademoiselle Amelia Dee,’ he announced. ‘Her Serenity the Princess Parvin Kha-Douri requests the privilege of seeing the peacock lamp once again.’

Amelia stared.

‘She probably wants to make you give it back to her,’ whispered Kevin.

‘Why not?’ whispered Eugenie. ‘It’s hers really, isn’t it?’

‘Mademoiselle Amelia?’ said Asha. He waited expectantly. There was nothing in his face to show what had happened, if anything, since they last met.

‘Yes,’ whispered Amelia. She spoke louder. ‘Yes, the Princess can see it if she wants. If that’s what she wants to do.’

Asha nodded. He walked around the car and opened the back door.

The Princess got out. She glanced at Amelia. Their eyes met.

Eugenie dropped in a curtsy. The Princess walked past her.

Amelia opened the door. Down the hall she went. The Princess followed. Amelia stood aside and waited for the Princess to go up.

‘Watch the stairs,’ said Amelia. ‘The wires . . .’

‘Yes, I remember,’ said the Princess, and started up the stairs.

They followed her. At the top, the Princess stopped and gazed at the lamp.

Amelia’s father came up the stairs, and then Amelia’s mother, and then Mrs Ellis, as if the presence of the Princess had somehow communicated itself to every room of the house. Eventually Asha came up the stairs as well, holding his hat.

But no one spoke. Not even Amelia’s father.

The Princess continued to stare. The minutes passed. Still the Princess stared.

Finally she murmured something.

‘What was that?’ whispered Kevin.

‘I think she said “happy lamp”,’ whispered Eugenie. ‘What does that mean?’

‘I’m not sure
I’m
the one to ask,’ replied Eugenie, and she glanced meaningfully at Amelia.

Tears were rolling down the Princess’s cheek. ‘Happy lamp,’ she murmured again.

Suddenly the Princess turned away. She faced the wall, and put out a hand. Asha gave her a handkerchief. The Princess composed herself.

She turned around. She glanced at Amelia, and then started down the stairs.

They all followed.

Outside, on the pavement, the Princess stopped. Asha opened the car door for her, but she didn’t get in.

‘Master . . .’

‘Kevin,’ whispered Asha quickly, before the Princess had a chance to say his name even if she could have remembered it.

‘Master Kevin,’ said the Princess. ‘Goodbye. It was a pleasure to meet you.’

Kevin stared at her in surprise. ‘Goodbye,’ he murmured.

The Princess looked down, where Eugenie was curtsying at her feet.

‘Eugenie,’ whispered Asha to his mistress.

‘Mademoiselle Eugenie,’ said the Princess.

Eugenie didn’t move. No one could see her face, only the top of her head.

‘Mademoiselle Eugenie,’ said the Princess again. She reached down and touched Eugenie’s elbow. But that wasn’t enough either, and the Princess had to grasp Eugenie’s arm and almost drag her upright.

Eugenie stared, speechless.

‘Do you enjoy meeting princesses?’ asked the Princess.

Eugenie’s eyes went wider.

‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ whispered Eugenie.

‘You may tell all your friends that I enjoyed meeting you.’

‘Yes?’ whispered Eugenie.

‘Yes,’ said the Princess.

Kevin glanced at Amelia and rolled his eyes. Eugenie had already been telling her friends more than that. Just imagine what she was going to say now!

‘And a word of advice,’ added the Princess, ‘when you curtsy, not so long, my dear, nor so deep. A little bob, that’s enough. Otherwise it is rather too much, don’t you think? Like so.’ The Princess bobbed for a second, spreading her arms gracefully, and then was back up again.

Eugenie stared, absolutely dumbstruck.

Then the Princess turned. She looked at Amelia’s parents.

Asha began whispering again. ‘Madame and Monsieur—’

‘I know!’ snapped the Princess. ‘Do you think I am still a child? Do you think I remember nothing, Asha?’

Asha looked at her in surprise.

‘Monsieur and Madame Dee,’ said the Princess. ‘And Mrs Ellis.’ She paused, and glanced triumphantly at Asha, who was visibly astonished. ‘Goodbye to you all. I am very glad to have met you again.’

Amelia’s father murmured something. Amelia’s mother said she was glad to have met the Princess again as well, or something to that effect. Mrs Ellis gave one of her stiff, awkward curtsies.

Then the Princess turned.

‘As for you, Mademoiselle . . .’

Amelia winced. Now it was going to start! The Princess had been saving it up, and now she was going to let loose.

‘Did you really swing on my lamp?’

‘You swung on the lamp?’ whispered Amelia’s father.

No! Amelia
knew
she shouldn’t have put that in. Now the Princess even had a reason to demand the lamp back, because she couldn’t trust Amelia to take care of it. And then it would be gone. The peacock lamp. Her lamp. The lamp that contained all her stories, that made her want to write even when she feared that everyone would laugh if they knew.

‘I’m glad you did,’ said the Princess. ‘When I was a little girl, I often imagined doing that. But I didn’t have the courage.’

Amelia stared. What was that? What had the Princess just said?

The Princess was watching her. And for the first time – if you exclude the time Amelia had walked in during the middle of her yoga session with Mr Vishwanath, which didn’t count because the Princess didn’t know she was being observed, and the times when the Princess had stared at the lamp, which didn’t count either, because the Princess had been utterly lost in her own memories – her face didn’t seem severe. It seemed almost . . . kind.

‘I didn’t exactly swing on it,’ said Amelia. ‘I mean, I did, but . . .’

The Princess continued to watch her. There was even a tiny smile on her lips. ‘Yes. You made it happy.’