housekeeper—a pleasant, somewhat stern woman called Solvej Lundberg, who had come with him from Sweden—would bring in a tray of tea.
Today it was Sophie’s favorite, toast with anchovy paste and a Battenberg cake with its checkerboard of pink and yellow cubes. She had picked up the habit of pulling the cakeapart and eating each cube separately, a trick that would have earned her a scolding in Heriot Row. When she took a bite of toast, though, she found she wasn’t hungry after all. Her eyes had a twitchy feeling that might mean she was about to cry.
“We have a surprise for you today, Sophie,” said the professor, cutting into her thoughts.
“Oh?” Sophie said dispiritedly. “What is it?”
Rather than answering, he held a finger over his lips and cocked his head to listen. The street door opened, then slammed shut. The loud footsteps in the hall told Sophie everything she needed to know.
“Mikael!”
Mikael was the housekeeper’s nephew. His mother shipped him over to Edinburgh every so often from Denmark when she felt she couldn’t manage him, and Sophie was very fond of him.
It was as if Sophie’s wish for someone to confide in had been magically granted—Mikael was the cleverest person Sophie knew, with the exception of Miss Chatterjee (but teachers didn’t count).
“I didn’t know you were coming!” she said after Mikael had helped himself to an enormous hunk of cake.
“Oh, yes. By the way, Aunt Solvej,” said Mikael, giving Sophie a sly wink, “I wouldn’t say no if you rustled up a new lot of buttered toast, no anchovies.”
Two of Mikael’s most noticeable traits were his bottomless hunger and his excellent colloquial English, spoken virtually without an accent.
Mrs. Lundberg returned shortly from the kitchen with plain buttered toast and several new kinds of biscuit as well, including chocolate digestives and coconut macaroons with glacé cherries on top. It was surprising how much hungrier Sophie felt now.
“Join us for our repast,” the professor urged, but Mrs. Lundberg would never sit down in the presence of visitors. Instead she cleared the cups and plates and rumpled Mikael’s hair as she passed.
It was rather a blow when Sophie looked at her watch and saw the time.
“Sophie, you wretch, you mustn’t go yet,” said Mikael. “I’ve only just laid eyes on you!”
But Sophie had to leave if she wanted to reunite with the tennis players before they all walked back to school. She kissed the professor on the cheek and said good-bye to Mrs. Lundberg, who pressed a packet of cake and sandwiches into Sophie’s hand.
Mikael stepped out into the garden with her. Often these days Sophie came and went by the front door, but the way through the garden and over the wall was quicker and less conspicuous.
“It’s good to see you,” she said to Mikael outside in the garden, feeling shy now they were alone together. “How long are you here for?”
“Till July,” Mikael said, grinning. “Good, isn’t it? My mother’s really fed up with me; she told me to stay away till she cooled down.”
“What did you do this time?” Sophie said.
“Oh, I borrowed someone’s motorcar and had a bit of an accident.”
“I didn’t know you could drive!”
“My brother gave me a few lessons last summer. To tell the truth, though, I really don’t know how to drive!”
“Will you have to pay for the repairs?” Sophie asked.
“No, fortunately the car belongs to my mother’s ‘gentleman friend,’ and he’s simply rolling in money,” said Mikael breezily. Sophie looked at him with envy. In his place, she would have been dying of mortification. “Anyway, I’ve got all sorts of things to tell you about. Friday afternoon, the usual time and place?”
“Perfect,” said Sophie.
They stood smiling at each other for an awkward moment. Then Sophie clambered over the wall and returned to school.
SEVEN
T HE G IRLS ’ R IFLE C LUB met that Thursday in the school gymnasium.
Today it was Sophie’s favorite, toast with anchovy paste and a Battenberg cake with its checkerboard of pink and yellow cubes. She had picked up the habit of pulling the cakeapart and eating each cube separately, a trick that would have earned her a scolding in Heriot Row. When she took a bite of toast, though, she found she wasn’t hungry after all. Her eyes had a twitchy feeling that might mean she was about to cry.
“We have a surprise for you today, Sophie,” said the professor, cutting into her thoughts.
“Oh?” Sophie said dispiritedly. “What is it?”
Rather than answering, he held a finger over his lips and cocked his head to listen. The street door opened, then slammed shut. The loud footsteps in the hall told Sophie everything she needed to know.
“Mikael!”
Mikael was the housekeeper’s nephew. His mother shipped him over to Edinburgh every so often from Denmark when she felt she couldn’t manage him, and Sophie was very fond of him.
It was as if Sophie’s wish for someone to confide in had been magically granted—Mikael was the cleverest person Sophie knew, with the exception of Miss Chatterjee (but teachers didn’t count).
“I didn’t know you were coming!” she said after Mikael had helped himself to an enormous hunk of cake.
“Oh, yes. By the way, Aunt Solvej,” said Mikael, giving Sophie a sly wink, “I wouldn’t say no if you rustled up a new lot of buttered toast, no anchovies.”
Two of Mikael’s most noticeable traits were his bottomless hunger and his excellent colloquial English, spoken virtually without an accent.
Mrs. Lundberg returned shortly from the kitchen with plain buttered toast and several new kinds of biscuit as well, including chocolate digestives and coconut macaroons with glacé cherries on top. It was surprising how much hungrier Sophie felt now.
“Join us for our repast,” the professor urged, but Mrs. Lundberg would never sit down in the presence of visitors. Instead she cleared the cups and plates and rumpled Mikael’s hair as she passed.
It was rather a blow when Sophie looked at her watch and saw the time.
“Sophie, you wretch, you mustn’t go yet,” said Mikael. “I’ve only just laid eyes on you!”
But Sophie had to leave if she wanted to reunite with the tennis players before they all walked back to school. She kissed the professor on the cheek and said good-bye to Mrs. Lundberg, who pressed a packet of cake and sandwiches into Sophie’s hand.
Mikael stepped out into the garden with her. Often these days Sophie came and went by the front door, but the way through the garden and over the wall was quicker and less conspicuous.
“It’s good to see you,” she said to Mikael outside in the garden, feeling shy now they were alone together. “How long are you here for?”
“Till July,” Mikael said, grinning. “Good, isn’t it? My mother’s really fed up with me; she told me to stay away till she cooled down.”
“What did you do this time?” Sophie said.
“Oh, I borrowed someone’s motorcar and had a bit of an accident.”
“I didn’t know you could drive!”
“My brother gave me a few lessons last summer. To tell the truth, though, I really don’t know how to drive!”
“Will you have to pay for the repairs?” Sophie asked.
“No, fortunately the car belongs to my mother’s ‘gentleman friend,’ and he’s simply rolling in money,” said Mikael breezily. Sophie looked at him with envy. In his place, she would have been dying of mortification. “Anyway, I’ve got all sorts of things to tell you about. Friday afternoon, the usual time and place?”
“Perfect,” said Sophie.
They stood smiling at each other for an awkward moment. Then Sophie clambered over the wall and returned to school.
SEVEN
T HE G IRLS ’ R IFLE C LUB met that Thursday in the school gymnasium.
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