(This is a semi-sequel to a few of the stories in From the Rooftops and The Things in the Cellar, as well as The Six Daughters of Celine Cooper.  It should make sense on its own, though.)

Her name was Eleanor Colleen Lennox, but her friends usually called her Lennie. Two days before her mother’s wedding, she was sitting on a wall outside the Rose Hotel and thinking about an artist she’d heard of who’d had little deer horns grafted onto her forehead. When Lennie got older and became a famous artist, she was going to go one better. She was going to have reindeer antlers, with blue hair (maybe in spikes, maybe not) and green stripy snake tattoos coiled all around her arms. (“But you didn’t even want to get your ears pierced,” Mum would say, “How are you going to get a tattoo over your whole arm?” Lennie would figure out a way. It was always worth it for art.)

Lennie was waiting for Aunt Sammy to show up. Nana Celine had booked practically the entire hotel for their family this weekend. Mum said they only needed it for the reception on Saturday, but Ewan (who was going to marry her in a few days) said that they shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If Nana Celine wanted to practically buy an entire hotel so that both their families could descend upon it and make a nuisance of themselves, then why stop her? Lennie agreed with him. She was just sorry there wasn’t a pool.

Ewan was a PE teacher at William Gladstone High School, and Mum worked in the kitchen there, so that was how they met. They’d told Lennie that it was a really good school, but she didn’t have to go to secondary school there, not if she didn’t want her mum and by-then-stepdad breathing down her neck all the time. Lennie hadn’t quite decided yet. They’d start looking at all the other secondary schools in September, and then she’d see.

Lennie was looking out for a grey Ford Fiesta, because that was the kind of car Aunt Sammy had. She’d be bringing her girlfriend, Camilla, who was the most beautiful woman Lennie had ever met and was always wearing about five hundred different-coloured bits of jewellery that you could never spot all in one go, and Camilla’s son Wesley, who was Lennie’s usual partner in crime at big family events. Last Christmas, they’d played Secret Agents and managed to hide from the rest of the family for a whole hour. Maybe they could do that again.

Lennie tapped her fingers on the stone beneath her, thinking about codenames and invisible ink and deadly laser pens, until she heard a noise just to her left. She looked up and saw Uncle Charlie standing over her with a cigarette in his mouth. She hadn’t even seen where he’d come from- it was as if he’d magically appeared in the courtyard. He’d probably make a good secret agent.

“Alright?” said Uncle Charlie. Actually, it was more like “Mm-murr?”, like a grunting groan more than an actual word, but Lennie knew what he meant.

“Yeah,” said Lennie, sitting up properly. She didn’t know Uncle Charlie that well yet. He’d been married to Nana Celine back in the olden days, when Mum had been a little girl. He wasn’t Mum’s dad, but he was Aunt Angel and Aunt Love’s, which was why they were all back in town for the wedding. “Just waiting for Aunt Sammy.”

Uncle Charlie didn’t say anything, just carried on staring at her and smoking his cigarette. Lennie knew that those grey bits under his eyes and in his five-o’-clock shadow probably weren’t cigarette ash, but it was hard to believe it when he smoked so many of them. “Going to be some changes around here,” he said. It sounded like he’d kept his teeth clenched when he talked.

“Really?” asked Lennie.

Uncle Charlie nodded. “When I move back in with your grandma. Going to be some changes. Won’t be having you running around in those skimpy shorts, for a start.”

Lennie looked down at those shorts, feeling suddenly very protective of them. They were patterned in blue and green and turquoise, like army camouflage but brighter. “I only wear shorts when it’s hot.”

Uncle Charlie carried on staring at her, slowly smoking his cigarette. “Going to be some changes,” he repeated, then went back inside.

Lennie smoothed down her shorts, wondering what Uncle Charlie’s problem was. She didn’t even know what “skimpy” meant. It sounded like it had to do with fish.

She drew her knees up, and went back to watching the road. After a few minutes, she spotted a grey Ford Fiesta.

(To be continued)