pink, glossy lipstick. “Dad’s waiting. We’re about to leave.”
“I’ll just be one minute.”
Alex twisted the bow tie again, wondering what he had to do to stop the darn thing from going crooked.
He looked ridiculous. Nobody under the age of fifty should have to dress like this. But at least he’d been able to resist Sabina’s suggestion that he should go to the party dressed in a kilt. She’d been teasing him about it since Christmas.
Despite everything, the last six weeks had been fantastic for Alex Rider. First of all, Sabina and her parents had unexpectedly arrived in England. Edward Pleasure was a journalist. He had almost been killed once, investigating the pop singer Damian Cray. Alex had blamed himself for that, and when, at the end of it all, Sabina had left for America, he had been certain he would never see her again. But now she was back in his life, and although she was a year older than him, the two had never been closer. It helped perhaps that she was one of the few people who knew about his involvement with MI6.
Better still, the Pleasures had invited Alex to join them for the New Year at the house they had rented in the West Highlands of Scotland. Hawk’s Lodge was a Victorian pile that had been named after an obscure poet rather than the bird. It stood, three stories high, on the edge of woodland with Ben Nevis in the background. It was the sort of house that needed roaring log fires, hot chocolate, old-fashioned board games, and too much to eat. Liz Pleasure, Sabina’s mother, had supplied all of this and more from the moment they had arrived. In the past few days, the four of them had gone hiking and fishing.
They had visited ruined castles and isolated villages and strolled along the famous white sands of Morar. Sabina had hoped it might snow—there was good skiing over at Avi emore and she had brought her gear with her—but although it was freezing outside, so far the weather had only managed a few flurries. There was no television in the house, and Edward had banned Sabina from bringing her Nintendo DS, so they had spent the evenings playing Scrabble or Perudo, the Peruvian game of liar dice, which Alex nearly always won. If there was one thing he had learned in his life, it was certainly how to lie.
Meanwhile, Jack Starbright, Alex’s housekeeper and in some ways still his closest friend, was in Washington, D.C. She had been invited to Scotland too, but had decided to go home for New Year with her parents. Following her out of the house, it had crossed Alex’s mind that one day she would go back to America for good. All her friends and family were there. He wondered what would happen to him if she did. She had looked after him since his uncle had died, and as far as he knew, there was nobody to take her place.
As if reading his thoughts, she had given him a hug while the taxi driver loaded up her suitcases.
“Don’t worry, Alex. I’ll see you in ten days. Just try and have a good time in Scotland. See if you can get past New Year without getting into trouble. Don’t forget, school starts on the sixth.” And that was another reason to be cheerful. Alex had managed to complete an entire half term at Brookland without getting kidnapped, shot at, or recruited by one of the world’s security agencies. He had begun to feel like an ordinary schoolboy again, getting told off for talking in class, sweating over his homework, listening for the bell that meant the end of day.
He took one last look in the mirror. Jack was right. Forget all this spy stuff. He’d had enough of all that.
He was leaving it behind.
He went down two flights of stairs to the hall with its wood panels and rather gloomy paintings of Scottish wildlife. Edward Pleasure was waiting with Sabina. It seemed to Alex that the journalist had grown quite a lot older since they had last met. There were definitely more lines in his face, he now wore glasses all the time, and he had lost a lot of weight. He also limped, supporting himself with a heavy walking stick, metal tipped and with a metal handle shaped like a duck’s head. His wife had bought it for him in an antiques shop in London. She had joked that if any of the people he wrote about ever tried to attack him, at least he’d have something he could use to defend himself.
The journalist had put on his own black tie for the evening, but Alex saw at once from his expression that something was wrong.
“What is it?” Alex asked Sabina.
“Mum’s not coming,” Sabina replied. She was looking glum. All her enthusiasm for the party had drained away.
“She says she’s not feeling up to it,” Edward explained. “It’s nothing serious. She’s just got a bit of the flu . . .”
“Then I think we should all stay,” Sabina said.
“That’s nonsense, Sabina. The three of you go and enjoy yourselves.” Liz Pleasure had appeared at one of the doorways. She was a pleasant, easygoing woman with long, straggly hair. She didn’t care how she looked and she liked to run a house without rules. Right now she was wearing a baggy jersey and jeans, holding a box of tissues. “I don’t much like parties anyway, and I’m certainly not going out in this weather.”
“But you don’t want to be here for New Year on your own.”
“I’m going to have a hot bath with some of that expensive oil your dad bought me for Christmas. Then I’m going to bed. I’ll be asleep long before midnight.” She went over to Sabina and put her arm around her. “Honestly, Sab, it doesn’t bother me. We can celebrate New Year tomorrow and you can tell me what I missed.”
“I don’t even want to go to this stupid party!”
“That’s not true. You love parties. And you look terrific . . . both of you.”
“But Mum . . .”
“You have to go. Your dad’s got the tickets and they cost a fortune.” She beamed at Alex. “You look after her, Alex. And remember: This is a party in a real Scottish castle. I’m sure you’re going to have a fantastic time.”
There was no point in any further argument, and twenty minutes later, Alex found himself being driven along the twisting roads that led north to Loch Arkaig. The weather had turned worse. The snow that Sabina had been hoping for was falling more heavily, swirling in front of the headlights as they cut through the night. Edward Pleasure was driving a Nissan X-Trail that he had rented at Inverness Airport. Alex was glad he had chosen a four-by-four. The snow was already settling. Any thicker and they would need the extra traction.
Sabina was stretched out in the back, untangling her iPod. Alex was in the front. It was the first time he had been alone with Edward Pleasure since the south of France, and he felt a little uncomfortable. The journalist must have known about his involvement with MI6. Sabina would have told him everything that had happened. But the two
