I narrowed my eyes. “Why do I get my own car?”
Dad cleared his throat. “It’s just something the Council have insisted on, Helen. Perhaps they prefer that the key witness not travel with the defendants. It may look a tad strange.”
My spoon landed in my cereal bowl with a sharp rattle. “But they know we live together, right? And we’re related?”
“Like Father said, it’s just a formality,” Athena said. “I wouldn’t dwell on it too much, Helen.”
No, of course she wouldn’t. Athena, Dad and the rest of the gods had no idea what it felt like to be an outsider in their own family. It made seemingly unimportant things (like, I don’t know, not even being allowed to travel in the same car) feel like a way bigger deal.
I didn’t have much longer to simmer because the cars soon arrived at our door. I collected my overnight bag, put my parka over my thin cotton toga and climbed into the first of two sleek black cars with tinted windows. Sore as I was about travelling alone, it did feel kind of exciting to have my own chauffeur-driven car.
Unfortunately Dad insisted on triple-checking my seat belt and waving at the car until it reached the end of our road. You know, just in case I was feeling too much like an adult.
The car wound its way through to the centre of London, pausing from time to time in rush-hour traffic. I stared out of the window, wishing I at least had the distraction of my phone (strictly forbidden in the courthouse apparently, so I’d left it at home).
What would I be doing if this was a normal day? Probably meeting Yasmin, Noor and Daphne at our spot near the gates and chatting on the way to double English. If they didn’t hate me. I hadn’t seen them since I’d abandoned them for Marco, and I felt like such an idiot. Was it weird that I wanted to be at school? I pushed the thought out of my head. The trial was happening whether I liked it or not. It wouldn’t help to fantasize about being somewhere else.
“Miss? Where would you like to get out?” the driver asked, interrupting my pity party.
I looked out of the window and saw the historic building towering above me. A black-and-gold coat of arms glinted on the wall, with the words “Royal Courts of Justice” beneath it. I had arrived.
“Miss? I can’t stop for long,” the driver said.
“Um, here’s fine.” I grabbed my bag and got out. The car wove its way back into the stream of traffic and was out of sight in seconds. I looked up at the building. With its turrets, arches and sandy-grey stone walls, it looked more like a fairy-tale castle than a courthouse.
The gods were nowhere to be seen, so I had to find this side entrance myself. I took my crumpled itinerary out of my pocket. But it didn’t offer any more clues about where this side entrance would be. I hitched up my toga and decided to circle the building. At this point I became aware that I looked … strange. Wearing a parka over a white floor-length toga on a cold February morning was definitely an attention-grabber. A few people in sharp suits and winter coats glanced up at me from their phones as they power-walked along the pavement.
I walked for what felt like ages before I saw it. A side entrance! Bordered by the Royal Courts of Justice and the pub next door, it was dark and dingy-looking. At the end there was an iron gate leading on to a courtyard. I dashed through it, the cobbles slick and grimy underneath my trainers, before anyone noticed me.
I pushed the gate open, expecting to meet resistance from a lock, but it swung open with ease. I stepped into the courtyard and gasped.
Where was I?
THIRTY-FIVE
It was the strangest thing. I could still hear the roar and beeps of rush-hour traffic from the main road. But the winter chill and grey skies had gone. Instead, the sky was powder blue and the air was warm. I felt the sun on my face and took off my parka.
I was in a courtyard surrounded by the Royal Courts of Justice. It seemed like the same building that, a minute ago, my car had dropped me in front of. Maybe Dad was right: Mount Olympus had come to us. I could feel it in the air.
A church bell chiming in the distance reminded me that it was nine o’clock. Wasn’t that the time the trial was meant to start? I hitched up my toga and jogged towards the entrance, where I could hear voices and chattering.
“Helen! You’re here, just in time.” It was Athena, waiting by the entrance. I had run past her on my way in. “I trust you found the entrance all right?”
I didn’t answer. Athena could be so smug sometimes – did she know I nearly went into panic mode trying to find the entrance?
“Anyway, you’re here and that’s what matters. There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Athena said. She put her arm around me and walked me over to a tall, thin man with skin so pale it was tinged blue. I thought that I’d better get used to this: two whole days of pointless introductions.
“Helen, I’d like you to meet your Uncle Hades.”
Hades was the only ugly god I’d ever met. His skin had a moist, clammy sheen and when I shook his hand it felt like stroking a toad. Gag. I wondered if the myth about his wife Persephone was true – that he’d kidnapped her and tricked her into being his wife. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least, now that I’d met him.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said. He clasped both hands over mine (gross gross gross). “We must arrange a visit to the Underworld sometime. The River Styx is beautiful at this time of year,” Hades said, cackling at his own joke. No one else laughed.
“Come, let us take our seats,” Athena said. I followed them both inside the courtroom. But it was like no courtroom I’d ever seen on TV.
It was huge. There were hundreds of people packed into benches facing a podium the size of a stage. I imagined this would be where my family, the Council and the judge would stand. And me, too.
I followed Athena and Hades to a reserved bench in the front row. The chatter from the people seated in the rows behind us hushed slightly as we took our seats.
My body was seized with fear. How was I going to say a single word in front of all these people?
Then I noticed the windows. On one side of the room, the windows looked out on to the main road. I saw grey pavement, traffic lights and double-decker buses. But the windows on the other side of the room? They had a completely different view. I saw blue skies laced with wispy white clouds and a glittering blue ocean. It looked so vivid. Was it real?
“Athena, what’s out there?” I asked her.
“Why, Mount Olympus of course.”
“For real? So are we on earth or Mount Olympus?”
Athena smiled. “Neither. Or both. Depends on how you want to look at it.”
I rolled my eyes. Classic Athena, but today I wasn’t in the mood for a riddle.
“Think of this courtroom as a halfway house of sorts,” she continued. “Honestly, Helen, I would think you have more important things to worry about.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
Suddenly the courtroom hushed completely. Aphrodite, Dad, Apollo and Eros took to the stage.
I couldn’t get over how different they looked. The warmth in Dad’s eyes, Apollo’s cheeky grin and Aphrodite’s perma-smug pout had been wiped from their faces. They looked as rigid and stately as the statues in the British Museum. They sat on throne-like chairs in the centre of the stage, not a single trace of emotion on their faces. I hoped that my nerves wouldn’t betray me and show on mine. I felt like a quivering wreck.