The Spin by Rebecca Lisle Page B

golden liquid, glasses, a box of cigars, and a massive glass paperweight in the shape of the Academy castle.
    The walls of the study were lined with shelves of books and stuffed heads of deer and wolves. The deer looked petrified and the wolves looked fierce and Stormy thought how unfair it was to leave the poor deer being forever frightened.
    Mastering the Skies, Aerodynamics for Animal Flyers, The Science of Spitfyres, Spitfyre Folklore, Training for Spitfyre Sky-riders, Flying Horses Forever
– the titles of the books sent a thrilling shiver up his spine.
    â€˜So, you replace Ollie?’ Araminta said. ‘I suppose you’re surprised I know a servery worker, aren’t you?’
    Stormy shook his head, then nodded; she was so confusing.
    â€˜The silly boy made a name for himself . . . You have a good head for heights, have you?’
    He wished she wouldn’t stare at him so.
    â€˜Yes, miss.’
    â€˜The other boy did not.’
    â€˜Didn’t he, miss?’ He pretended to know nothing of Ollie’s fate because it seemed safer.
    She flicked her hair. ‘Don’t answer back!’ She glared at him. ‘Well, what do you think? Will you make a name for yourself? Answer me!’
    â€˜I’m not clever,’ Stormy said. ‘I’ve never had the chance. But if I had the chance, if I could read all these books, or –’
    She shook her pretty head. ‘No chance of that, kitchen boy!’
    The swirly patterns on the green and gold carpet swirled some more. ‘No, miss.’
    â€˜I’m the Director’s daughter,’ she said. ‘I give orders here. I can do whatever I like.’ She watched him closely, waiting for him to answer.
    â€˜Yes, miss.’
The Director’s daughter? Oh, my!
    â€˜And you must always do as I say,’ she added.
    â€˜Yes, miss.’ Stormy nodded. Unable to return her stare he looked round at the fascinating things in the room, coming to a stop at a painting of a young man. ‘Is that the Director there?’ he blurted, pointing at the picture.
    â€˜Which one, you totally rude boy?’
    There were
two
almost identical paintings of two young men on the walls facing each other. They both wore their hair long, curling close round their faces.
    â€˜Either.’
    â€˜You are very nosey for a kitchen boy,’ she said. ‘One is my father and one is his brother. I never met my uncle. He’s dead.’
    â€˜Oh, I’m sorry.’
    â€˜Don’t be. It happened ages and ages ago and he left all his money to Daddy so actually it was pretty lucky. If you have to share something you end up with less of it, which isn’t good. Don’t you agree?’
    Stormy had always shared everything – his bunk, his clothes, and his food. But still he nodded.
    Suddenly there was a knock at the door and Maud came in. ‘Did you ring? Tsk tsk,’ she added, eyeing the table. ‘I am sorry.’ She began dusting the table vigorously. ‘I’m so sorry, didn’t I polish this mahogany to your liking, miss? I could –’
    â€˜No. I did not ring! Maud, you’ve got bells in your skull instead of brains. How dare you interrupt us? Go away.’
    â€˜Yes, miss.’ Maud gave Stormy a quick cheeky grin, so fleeting he wasn’t sure it had been there at all, and backed out. ‘I can’t imagine what I was thinking,’ she muttered with a smile as she closed the door.
    â€˜Maud has been with us since she was a baby. An orphan, like you,’ Araminta said. ‘Daddy treats her as part of the family; he is a very kind and generous man. My mother died, you know. Just three years and eight months ago. I think I’m forgetting her a little already. Daddy has forgotten her completely. Ah well . . .’
    Stormy hardly heard her. What if Araminta and the Director had adopted
him
when he was a baby, instead of Otto and Mrs Cathcart taking him in at the