The Penderwicks on Gardam Street (19 page)

Rosalind’s world heaved up and shook itself like Hound after a bath. Now she was awake.

As soon as the Penderwicks got home, Rosalind ran upstairs to her room. As revelations went, the one she’d had at the soccer game was as huge as it was scary, and she couldn’t act on it without help. She opened the bottom drawer of her bureau, and yes, there was the help she needed, the photograph she’d hidden away weeks earlier.

“Hi, Mommy, I missed you,” she said, gazing hungrily at her mother’s eyes, crinkled in laughter, her pretty blond hair framing her face, and her hands wrapped lovingly around the solemn, brown-eyed baby that was Rosalind once upon a time. “And I’m sorry I doubted you. I think I have it right now. Do I? Was
that
what you meant?”

There were no answers, of course, but asking the questions strengthened Rosalind’s resolve. She put the photograph back on the bedside table where it belonged, then went to round up her sisters. It was time for an Emergency MOPS.

They were none too willing to come. Skye and Jane hadn’t yet changed out of their dirty uniforms, and everyone was hungry for lunch. But since no one ever ignored an Emergency MOPS, all the sisters obediently gathered in Rosalind’s room and sat in a circle on the floor. Settling down was another thing, though, because the excitement of the soccer game had not yet worn off, and Rosalind pounded on the floor over and over without getting their attention.

At last she had to shout. “QUIET! EMERGENCY MOPS—”

“We can hear you,” said Skye.

“It’s about time. Emergency MOPS come to order.”

“Second the motion,” said Skye.

“Third it,” said Jane.

“Fourth it,” said Batty. She knew better than to fifth it for Hound at an Emergency MOPS.

Rosalind put out her fist. “All swear to keep secret what is said here, even from Daddy and Aunt Claire—and actually from Iantha, too—unless you think someone might do something truly bad.”

Marveling at the addition of Iantha to the oath, the other sisters put their fists on top of Rosalind’s.

“This I swear, by the Penderwick Family Honor!”

It was now time for Rosalind to begin the meeting, but though she’d pounded and shouted to get to this point, she hesitated. The weight of what she was about to do almost overwhelmed her. For courage, she took the photograph of her mother down and put it in the middle of the circle.

“Ever since Aunt Claire gave Mommy’s letter to Daddy,” she said, “I’ve been mistaken, misguided, shortsighted, and selfish.”

“Good grief, Rosy,” said Skye.

“It’s okay, Skye, because I finally figured it out at the end of the soccer game. What if Mommy was right about Daddy getting lonely and needing a grown-up woman to talk to besides Aunt Claire? What if it really is the right thing for him to date? What if—what if he even wants to get married again sometime? Would that truly be so terrible?”

“You said it would be,” said Skye. “You were sure.”

“You were positive,” said Jane.

“I know, I know.” Rosalind waved her hand as though to erase all that. “But what if he dates and then maybe marries someone really nice and kind and smart?”

“Rosalind, I’m too hungry for all these questions,” said Skye. “Just tell us what you’re thinking.”

“All right, I will. I think Daddy likes Iantha.”

Skye rolled her eyes in frustration. “Of course Daddy likes Iantha. We all do.”

“That’s not what I mean,” said Rosalind. “I mean—Daddy
likes
her.”

The first to understand, Jane leaned forward excitedly. “Does she like him back?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“But—” This was Skye, who didn’t know what she was trying to say.

“I know,” said Rosalind. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”

And Skye found, to her amazement, that it being perfect was just what she’d meant.

Only one sister hadn’t reacted so far, and now the three older ones turned to Batty, who was flopped heavily over Hound, trying to untangle some of his neckties.

“Do you understand what we’re saying, honey?” Rosalind asked her.

“You’re saying that Daddy should date Iantha.” She got one necktie free and started on another. “I said that a long time ago.”

“She did, you know, at the last MOPS. I remember.” Skye looked as disgusted as when she’d hugged Melissa.

“It’s becoming clear to me,” said Jane, “that Batty and I are the sensitive Penderwicks.”

“Not now, Jane,” said Rosalind before Skye could start an argument about sensitivity. “Lunch will be any minute, and we’ve got to decide what to do. Because if we think Daddy and Iantha should date, they’re both going to the gala university event tomorrow night. They can simply go together.”

“How thrilling!” said Jane. “How are we going to make them do it?”

“It’s not like we can trick them into it,” added Skye. “Not after last night. Daddy told us no interference, remember?”

“If we have to trick him, we will. We can always confess again,” said Rosalind. “Now we need a plan, the new and improved Save-Daddy Plan. Everybody think until their brains fall out. We have less than twenty-four hours.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A Very Long Night

I
T WAS JANE
who thought of taking the battery out of the car—she’d read about it once while researching a Sabrina Starr book. Skye found out how to do it by going across the street and asking Nick to demonstrate on his parents’ car. Rosalind wanted to be the one to do the actual taking out, since, as oldest sister, she should be responsible for the part that was sort of illegal. But when the whole schedule was written out, she realized that the battery removal and the fetching of Ben had to be done at the same time. And nobody thought that Skye should be sent for Ben.

“So Skye works on the car, Rosalind and Batty go next door to get Ben, and I make sure Daddy doesn’t come downstairs before Skye’s ready,” said Jane. The plan was to be set in motion any minute—as soon as their father emerged from his study and went upstairs to get dressed for the gala event—and the sisters were going over the details one last time. There hadn’t been much time for practice, as they’d had to lay low and look innocent until Aunt Claire went home, and Rosalind was afraid people would forget their parts.

“Skye, how will you let Jane know you’re ready?” she asked.

“I’ll go upstairs and tell her she’d better clean her half of the room or I’ll kill her.” Skye anxiously tugged at her sweatshirt. She had several essential tools tucked into the waist of her jeans, and she was worried that her father would notice the odd lumps.

Rosalind turned to Batty. There had been some discussion about Batty being the weak link, but she was needed. Besides, her future, too, was in the balance. “Now, Batty, remember that as soon as we get to Iantha’s, you go to the window and watch for Daddy to come out of our house and get into the car. What’s your spy code?”

“Bug Man.”

“And you absolutely will not say ‘Bug Man’ until Daddy’s really and truly in the car?”

“Even if I see Bug Man, I won’t say so.”

“There’s-no-Bug-Man,” Skye rattled off automatically.

Rosalind shushed her. “Bug Man” as the spy code didn’t please her, either, but it was one they could be sure Batty would remember.

“Anything else?” she asked. “Ready for Phase One to initiate? The oath, everyone.”

The sisters formed a circle and joined hands.

“For the Penderwick Family Honor,” they said in unison, just as their father came out of his study.

“Macbeth’s witches, right here in my own living room,” he said.

“There were only three of them,” said Rosalind, wishing that she didn’t look as guilty as she knew she did.

“Time to go get ready for the gala, Daddy,” said Jane brightly. “I think I’ll come up and talk to you through your door while you dress.”

“Why?” He settled his glasses firmly on his nose and looked through them at her.

“To keep you company, of course,” she said with a look of shock and sadness that almost fooled her sisters, even though they knew exactly what she was doing.

She did fool their father, who kindly put his arm around her and led her toward the steps. She’d be fine up there, Rosalind knew—they’d put together a list of topics for her to introduce as stalling techniques, including her new Sabrina Starr book. Jane could go on forever about Sabrina Starr without any effort at all.

Now it was up to the rest of them. They shoved Hound into the kitchen with a bone to keep him quiet, then ran outside. The daylight had almost faded, which they hoped would give them enough cover—heaven forbid Iantha looked out a window and saw them stealing their own battery. When they reached the car, Skye popped open the hood.

“It doesn’t look like the Geigers’ car,” said Skye, shocked. “Everything’s in a different place!”

“Can you still do it?” Rosalind bit at her fingernails, which she never did, while Skye poked around, muttering strange words like “alternator” and “fuel injector” and “electronic ignition.”

“Yes, here’s the battery,” she said finally, then extracted an adjustable wrench from under her sweatshirt. She looked less anxious now, and already had an impressive smear of grease across her forehead. “They really should teach us this stuff in school. Much better than the stupid Aztecs.”

Rosalind wasn’t going to get into any more discussions about the Aztecs for now and, she hoped, forever. She took Batty’s hand and headed next door, abruptly realizing that she’d been so busy organizing everyone else, she hadn’t planned how to keep Iantha from leaving her house too early.

“Please don’t let her be ready,” she said, ringing the doorbell.

But Iantha was ready, and—

“You look lovely,” said Rosalind with a little gasp.

She was telling the truth. Iantha was magnificent—goddess-like, Rosalind told Anna later—in a flowing silk dress of a mysterious blue-green, the color of the sea just before sunset. Her hair, too, was stunning, swept up in an elegant twist, and she was wearing a heavy gold necklace with dark red stones.

“Thank you.” Iantha’s old shyness seemed to be back. “That is, are you sure?”

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

“It’s not too much for giving a speech? I loathe giving speeches. Thank goodness the speeches come first and I can get it over with. Oh, dear.” She looked around her. “Have I lost Ben?”

“He’s with Batty, looking out the window.”

“Of course he is. Then I guess I’m ready to leave.”

But since Batty had not yet said the spy code, Iantha had to be kept inside. So Rosalind made her go over everything that Ben would need that evening, even though they’d already discussed it that afternoon. What he could eat for supper, what time he should be put to bed, and what he should wear when put there. And how Iantha had packed his things in a little overnight bag, and that she would leave her front door unlocked in case she’d forgotten anything, but that Rosalind should be very careful not to let Asimov out if she did have to go into the house.

After they’d gone through all that, because Batty had still not said the spy code, Rosalind opened the overnight bag and slowly and carefully inspected every item it held: two jars of baby food, two pairs of pajamas, three diapers, a red duck, a yellow duck, an extra pair of socks—

“TOMMY!” shrieked Batty.

Rosalind rushed over to the window. Had Batty gotten the spy code wrong, after all? But no, it really was Tommy she’d seen, going into his house.

“Batty, you don’t have to let us know every time Tommy comes home.” Rosalind smiled sheepishly at Iantha, hoping it hadn’t looked as though she were desperate for a glimpse of that most annoying boy.

“How is he?” asked Iantha.

“I don’t know. He’s not talking to me.”

“I’m sorry. It’s hard when you stop being friends with someone after such a long time. You must miss him.”

Rosalind tried to summon an ironic laugh, as a polite way to tell Iantha that missing Tommy was a ridiculous concept. But somehow the laugh stuck in her throat, and before she had to wonder why, Batty screeched out “BUG MAN!” setting off a storm of cheers from Ben. Thank goodness. Phase One of the plan was complete.

“I’m all set, Iantha.” Rosalind zipped up Ben’s bag. “We can go.”

Now for Phase Two, which would make removing a battery and stalling Iantha look easy. Bracing herself, Rosalind opened the front door, letting out Batty and Ben first, who hopped down the steps quite pleased with themselves, then Iantha, who drifted gracefully behind them, looking even more lovely in the soft twilight of the evening.

One glance over to the Penderwicks’ driveway, and Rosalind could see that everyone was exactly on schedule. Her father was in his car, the car’s engine was not on, and Skye and Jane were lurking close by, pretending to look concerned. Good. Rosalind executed the prearranged signal—that is, she scratched the top of her head.

On cue, Jane waved and shouted, “YOO-HOO! DADDY’S CAR WON’T START!”

The sisters had discussed at great length how to get Iantha across her driveway and over to their own. Would Rosalind have to insist? But no, Iantha, without hesitation, glided in exactly the direction she was supposed to go. Rosalind followed with Batty and Ben, watching and holding her breath.

Now her father was getting out of the car. This was a crucial moment. If he looked under the hood, he’d see that the battery was missing, and he’d want to call the police to report a robbery, and all would be lost. Come on, Skye, thought Rosalind, still following Iantha, it’s time for your next line.

Skye came through perfectly. She blocked her father’s way to the front of the car. “Don’t open the hood, Daddy. You’ll get your suit dirty. Right, Jane?”

“Right, Skye, and besides, maybe what’s wrong with the car is a computer glitch, anyway, and they’re hard to see.”

“Yes, a computer glitch is possible, like with a bad sensor.”

Their father was still trying to get to the hood. “When did you two learn so much about cars?” He got past Skye, only to run into Jane.

“Magazines,” she said wildly.

“What magazines?”

Rosalind, right behind Iantha, knew that Jane was close to breaking. Next she’d be nattering about who knows what and their father would get suspicious and the plan would fail. But Iantha was almost in place. If she would only speak before Jane got going. Say something, Iantha, prayed Rosalind, please say something.

“Hello, Martin,” said Iantha. “What’s the trouble?”

He turned toward her. The car keys fell out of his hand. Skye dove for them and shoved them deep into her pocket, but she needn’t have bothered hiding the keys. As Jane said later, Daddy had stopped noticing anything but Iantha in her dress. And Iantha, seeing him notice her so completely, had gone so still and quiet that she might have been a statue.

“Daddy, is it true that the car won’t start?” Rosalind gently hinted when the silence had gone on for too long.

“No. I mean yes,” her father answered, like he was coming out of a dream. “The girls tell me it could be a computer glitch.”

“Ah, a computer glitch,” breathed Iantha, clearly having no idea what she was saying.

Rosalind tugged on Batty’s hand. They’d given her yet one more line, even though it was a vital one, because fewer suspicions would be aroused if Batty said it.

Batty knew what the tug meant. She stood tall and spoke proudly.

“Iantha,” she said. “Could you take Daddy in your car?”

Iantha murmured something, and their father murmured something else, then he held out his arm to her—like a true and honorable gentleman, his daughters agreed later—and she shyly took it. And then together, after only vague good-byes to their children, they drifted back over to Iantha’s house and got into her car.

“Phase Two complete,” said Rosalind, picking up Ben. “Let’s get some supper.”

When supper was over, and Rosalind was in the bathroom with Ben, washing applesauce off his face and hands and out of his hair, Batty went to her bedroom to get ready for her very first almost-sleepover. She wished Ben could stay the whole night, but even so, it was terribly exciting just to have him fall asleep in her room, and she wanted it to be just right for him. She took all of her stuffed animals off the bed and piled them in the corner, since no one likes sleeping with someone else’s stuffed animals. She made sure the closet door was shut, just in case Ben was afraid of monsters. And finally, because it was a special occasion, she selected her favorite ties from the ones Jeffrey had given her and wrapped them around her waist, then wrapped several of her not-so-favorites around Hound’s legs. In the meantime, Hound went on with his own preparations—unearthing the bone he’d left under the bed a week ago, just in case Ben was the type of boy to steal a dog’s bone.

Now Batty and Hound were both ready. Side by side, they waited patiently until Rosalind carried in a clean and sleepy Ben, his red hair sticking up in damp spikes.

“Time for a story,” said Batty.

“What do you think Ben would enjoy?” asked Rosalind.

Batty had thought long and hard about this, and had decided that he’d probably most enjoy a story about Batty. “Let’s tell him about when Skye dropped me in the waves at Cape Cod and I almost drowned.”

“I’m not sure that’s the most soothing bedtime story for a little boy.”

“He wants to hear it, don’t you, Ben?”

“Duck.”

“See, Rosalind, that means yes. Once upon a time there was a brave little girl named—”

“Duck,” said Ben again. “Duck, duck.”

“You mustn’t interrupt,” said Batty. “Once upon a time there was a—”

“DUCK, DUCK, DUCK, DUCK!”

“—BRAVE LITTLE GIRL NAMED BATTY—”

“Stop shouting, Batty,” said Rosalind. “Ben’s crying.”

It was true. He was crying and rubbing his eyes with his fat fists. Rosalind rocked him, and Batty patted him on the head, feeling like her sleepover was getting off to a bad start. She felt so bad about it that she took—not Funty, because Funty didn’t feel safe with anyone but Batty or Hound—Sedgewick the horse from the corner and handed him to Ben, but Sedgewick only made him cry more. So she tried Ursula the bear, but Ursula was no better than Sedgewick, and then at last Batty figured it out.

“He must want one of the ducks from his room.”