Amelia Dee and the Peacock Lamp by Odo Hirsch Page B

coat and leotard.
    For an instant, Eugenie stared. Then she dropped into the lowest, most flamboyant curtsy imaginable, arms spread, head bowed, face down, her nose just about touching the pavement.
    ‘This is my friend, Eugenie Edelstein,’ said Amelia.
    Eugenie dropped even lower, if that was possible.
    ‘And this is Kevin Chan,’ said Amelia.
    ‘Hello,’ said Kevin.
    The Princess glanced at them for the briefest time imaginable. Then she looked at Amelia again. And Amelia could see that already she had put Kevin and Eugenie out of her mind – if they had even got into her mind – and as far as the Princess was concerned they were just two more people who had been introduced to her at some point during her life, and it could just as easily have happened a week ago, or a year ago, or ten years ago, as a minute ago, for all the difference it made to her.
    ‘I would be very grateful, Mademoiselle,’ she said stiffly to Amelia, ‘if I might see the lamp.’
    It crossed Amelia’s mind that now was the time to tell the Princess she couldn’t see it. Now, after she had got out of the car. That would be humiliating. Perhaps not as humiliating as the way the Princess had treated her, but it would be something, at least.
    She considered it for a moment. But she didn’t do it.
    ‘Follow me,’ said Amelia.
    She led the Princess into the house through the door under Solomon Weiszacker’s plaque. Kevin followed, and so did Eugenie, after she finally got up from her curtsy. The Princess’s driver stayed outside with the car.
    ‘Through here,’ said Amelia, leading the Princess down the hall. She got to the bottom of the stairs. ‘It’s up there.’
    Amelia flicked the switch at the bottom of the stairs. The light came on high above them, and the stairwell filled with the lamp’s soft, warm, stippled glow.
    The Princess looked up. Amelia folded her arms and waited.
    ‘Amelia!’ said Mrs Ellis, bustling out of the kitchen. ‘I don’t think we need the light on in the middle of the day! How many times do I have to—’
    Mrs Ellis stopped.
    ‘This is Her Serenity the Princess Parvin Kha-Douri,’ said Eugenie quickly, probably hoping the Princess would say she was grateful and call her a mademoiselle, as she had called Amelia.
    ‘And this is Mrs Ellis,’ said Amelia to the Princess.
    Mrs Ellis stared in confusion. Then she did a little curtsy, which was much the strangest thing Amelia had seen on what was turning out to be a pretty strange day.
    ‘Of course, if you want to put it on . . .’ Mrs Ellis mumbled. ‘I mean . . . Your Serenity . . . naturally . . .’
    ‘Amelia!’ said her father, coming in from the back door. ‘Where have you been? I called you before to—’ He stopped. ‘Oh. Who’s this?’
    The Princess looked at him.
    ‘Her Serenity the Princess Parvin Kha-Douri,’ said Amelia. ‘This is my father.’
    The Princess nodded.
    ‘She’s come to see the lamp.’
    ‘The lamp?’ said Amelia’s father.
    Amelia pointed towards the ceiling at the top of the stairs.
    ‘If I may see it,’ said the Princess.
    ‘Oh. Of course,’ said Amelia’s father. ‘You’re very welcome to see it. It’s just a lamp, though. A beautiful lamp, but just a lamp.’
    The Princess’s eyes narrowed.
    ‘There’s nothing particularly special . . . I mean technically . . . and it’s not as if there’s any kind of a story . . .’
    Amelia’s father’s voice trailed away. The Princess had turned from him, and was gazing upwards once more.
    He leaned closer to Amelia. ‘What’s going on?’
    ‘Amelia mentioned the lamp to the Princess, Mr Dee,’ whispered Kevin.
    ‘When?’
    ‘When she met her.’
    Amelia’s father frowned. ‘You’ve met this Princess, Amelia? When?’
    A huge crash came from behind the door of the sculpture room on the second floor, followed by an ear-piercing wail of frustration.
    The Princess looked at Amelia, as if awoken from her thoughts. ‘I would like to see the lamp