The Ruby Bottle

by Janet Reid

  IP Kidz

  an imprint of Interactive Publications

  Treetop Studio • 9 Kuhler Court

  Carindale, Queensland, Australia 4152

  sales@ipoz.biz

  ipoz.biz/IP_Kidz/Kidz.htm

  First published by IP Kidz, 2012

  © Janet Reid, 2012 (text)

  © Michaela Blassnig, 2012 (illustrations)

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owners and the publisher of this book.

  Printed in 12 pt Book Antiqua on 18 pt Monotype Corsiva.

  National Library of Australia

  Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:

  Author: Reid, Janet.

  Title: The ruby bottle / Janet Reid ; with illustrations by

  Michaela Blassnig.

  ISBN: 9781921869419 (ebk.)

  Target Audience: For children.

  Other Authors/Contributors: Blassnig, Michaela.

  Dewey Number: A823.4

  Cover and internal illustrations by Michaela Blassnig

  Internal background photos by Elena Elisseeva, Dreamstime.com

  Book design by Anna Bartlett

  Cover design by Michaela Blassnig and David Reiter

  For my mother, Dulcie Logan

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank the following people for their support and encouragement while writing this book:

  The Samford Writers and the Grey Street Girls.

  My readers Carmen, Alison, Ray, Penny G, and my husband, Alistair.

  My friends Ivy, Connor, Sherri, Bridie, Kylie, Laura, Penny K, Renee, Barb, Marcia, Claire, Alyson, and Liz for their help with details, particularly about teaching, netball, and djinn; Howard for shipping details; and John Downs for his photography.

  Lauren Daniels who believed in my writing and gave me the courage to continue with this story.

  And especially my awesome editor, Anna Bartlett, who pushed my boundaries and helped make this story what it is.

  Prologue

  As she brushed her fingers across the worn leather, her nose wrinkled at the musty smell. How old was this book? she wondered. She turned to the first page. It was yellowed and brittle with age …

  Chapter One

  Amber jigged about on the front doorstep, waiting, her skin tingling with excitement, though she didn’t know why. After all, this was just Mrs Heggety’s place …

  There was a click and the door opened.

  ‘Oh, hello, Amber.’ Mrs Heggety pushed her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose and squinted in the bright afternoon sunlight. ‘What a lovely surprise. Come on in, dear.’

  Amber stepped into the gloomy hallway of the old house and waited as Mrs Heggety closed the front door.

  ‘Come on, dear. Let’s go down to the kitchen. I’ll get you a glass of milk and I think I’ve got some cream biscuits somewhere.’

  Amber’s stomach rumbled as she followed Mrs Heggety down the hallway. Mrs Heggety always had cream biscuits. The sort her mother didn’t buy.

  ‘How is school going?’ asked Mrs Heggety as she rummaged through her pantry, opening tins until she found what she wanted.

  Awful.

  ‘Good,’ muttered Amber, nibbling at a ragged fingernail she’d broken at netball practice the day before. ‘We’re having the annual fete in a few weeks.’

  ‘Well, that should be fun,’ said Mrs Heggety as she poured Amber a glass of cold milk. ‘Would you like me to bake some cakes again?’

  Amber smiled. Mrs Heggety made the best cakes. They were always the first to be sold at the cake stall and she always made something special … unusual … as first prize in the raffle. One year she’d made a piano, and another year, a cactus. Last year she had made a cake in the shape of a witch’s hat and Amber’s best friend Bethany had won it. Now Amber felt her insides clench. What was she going to do at the fete without Bethany?

  ‘Our class isn’t doing cakes this year, Mrs Heggety,’ she murmured. ‘We’re doing the jumble stall.’

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, then flattened it out and pushed it across the table.

  ‘It tells you all about it in this note. We need to collect lots of old jumble that people don’t want anymore and sell it to someone who does want it. I was wondering if you had anything we could use.’

  Mrs Heggety gave a chuckle as she pushed some of her wispy white hair from her forehead. ‘I’m sure I have,’ she said, lifting her nose so she could peer through her glasses at the note. ‘I tell you what. I’ll give you a box and you can look through Mr Heggety’s shed. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of useful things in there.’

  Amber hadn’t been in Mr Heggety’s shed since he had died a few years ago, but she could remember the mountains of junk piled everywhere. For just a moment she felt her body tingle with anticipation.

  ‘Come on. Finish your milk and we’ll see what we can find,’ said Mrs Heggety, passing the note back. ‘And have another biscuit before you go.’

  The shed was a mess. In one corner, stacked against the wall, were garden tools, lengths of timber and an old wooden ladder. There was an old cot full of bags, pieces of wire and buckets with no handles. An ancient mower, a broken chainsaw and something that might once have been a bike were dumped together on the floor. And boxes were stacked everywhere, crammed full of junk that was no longer needed. At least, not by Mrs Heggety. Amber wondered where to start.

  She found plenty to fill the box – a vase, coffee mugs, an old recipe book, a game of Ludo and a couple of jigsaw puzzles, and a small china tea set that must have belonged to Mrs Heggety’s daughter, Vera, a long time ago. Amber liked Vera. Whenever she came over to visit her mother – nearly always wearing her police uniform – she brought Barney with her.

  ‘Come and play with Barney, Amber,’ she’d say, poking her head over the fence, laughing. Barney would rest his huge paws on the top railing next to her. Barney was the biggest dog Amber had ever seen. So somehow she just couldn’t imagine Vera ever playing with a tea set.

  Amber looked at the box of junk. Was something missing? She shook her head, not knowing why she had even thought that.

  It was getting late. She heaved the box up into her arms and was making her way to the door when something caught her eye. Something shiny. Something red. Rich red. Ruby red.

  Holding the box, Amber craned her neck. What was catching the fading light?

  And at that moment, a bold streak of sunlight flashed through a crack in the wall of the old wooden shed and shone through the glass of the most beautiful bottle she had ever seen.

  Standing by the door with the box of jumble in her arms, Amber was spellbound. As the light from outside dulled, the bottle brightened, its rays fanning out, striking objects with deep red beams, just as a sun catcher would in the early morning sunlight.

  She had no idea how long she stood there, but when Amber glanced out the grimy window she noticed that night was falling. Yet she could still see the ruby bottle. Very clearly. How was that possible?

  Carefully, Amber placed her jumble on the floor. She pushed her way through a stack of boxes and reached out. As her fingertips touched the glass she felt a shiver run through her body. Her arm tingled, and she knew instinctively this bottle was meant for her.

  Chapter Two

  ‘Are you alright in there?’ called Mrs Heggety.

  Amber jumped. ‘Yes,’ she cried, clutching the bottle to her chest.

  The door opened. Amber could see Mrs Heggety’
s shape silhouetted in the light spilling from the kitchen. Was it that late?

  ‘Did you manage to find anything useful, dear?’ asked Mrs Heggety, peering into the gloom.

  ‘Yes thank you, but I’m not sure about the tea set. Or this old red bottle. You might want to keep them. They look … valuable.’

  ‘Bring them into the kitchen, dear, and we’ll have a look at them.’

  Amber carefully placed the red bottle in the box and carried everything back to the house. She pulled out some of the jumble and showed Mrs Heggety.

  ‘Oh, that old tea set,’ said Mrs Heggety. ‘That was Vera’s. Gosh, that must be, what … almost fifty years old now.’ She picked up one of the cups. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘some of these pieces are chipped so you might as well take them. You know, if Vera had had a daughter, I would have passed it on, but no, she had to go and have five boys, bless them.’

  Amber smiled. Mrs Heggety adored her grandsons. She was always talking about them.

  ‘Oh, and the ruby bottle!’ exclaimed Mrs Heggety. ‘Why, I haven’t seen that in years. That was a good find, dear.’

  She held it up. In the light, Amber could see just how dusty it was, but it was still beautiful with its curved grooves swirling around the broad base and tapering up to the neck. She had never seen anything quite like it.

  ‘Where did it come from?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, it belonged to Mr Heggety’s Uncle Roger. He used to live with us and he kept this up on a small shelf in his room. There was a bit of a story to it, I think, but I can’t remember what it was right now.’ She gave the bottle a rub with her apron.

  Light from above caught the red glass, making it gleam. Amber, eyes wide, reached out and touched the bottle with the tips of her fingers. There was that strange tingle again. Had Mrs Heggety felt it as well?

  But Mrs Heggety just put the bottle back in the box. ‘I suppose it will come to me in time,’ she sighed.

  Amber nodded, and for a moment she wished the bottle was hers.

  And almost as if Mrs Heggety had read her mind, she said, ‘Why don’t you keep it instead of putting it in the jumble sale? And keep the tea set, too, if you like.’

  Could she? ‘Ah, I’m not sure …’ stammered Amber. And wasn’t she a bit old to play with tea sets?

  There was a knock at the front door. ‘Just me, Mrs Heggety,’ called a voice. ‘I’m looking for Amber.’

  Mum! How late was it?

  ‘I’m coming, Mum.’ Amber lifted the box from the table and turned to Mrs Heggety. ‘Thank you very much for all of this,’ she said.

  ‘No trouble, dear.’ And as Amber and her mother left, Mrs Heggety called after them, ‘And I’ll make some cakes for your fete, too.’

  Later that night, as she curled up under her doona, Amber could make out the shape of the ruby bottle perched on top of the jumble in the box. And as her eyes drooped, she imagined it began to glow, ever so slightly. It made her feel warm inside … safe …

  Chapter Three

  ‘Before we get started on our spelling,’ said Ms Kruger, leaning up against the whiteboard, her arms crossed, ‘next Friday I’d like each of you to bring in something you’ve collected for our jumble stall. That gives you a whole week. Rachel tells me she’s already got a big box of jumble – well done, Rachel –’ and she gave Rachel a huge smile, ‘– so the rest of you need to get cracking.’

  Rachel straightened her back and lifted her chin, her ponytail bobbing about proudly. Amber watched as she glanced about to see who might be looking at her. Their eyes met and the tip of Rachel’s tongue poked out between her lips. Amber looked away quickly.

  Well, Rachel Higgins, you’re not the only one who’s collected a whole box of jumble. I just don’t need to brag about it. And Amber let her mind drift to her ruby bottle. She would love to show that to the class. Then she thought about Mrs Heggety’s offer. Why don’t you keep it? she had said. Could she?

  ‘Come on, Amber,’ called Ms Kruger. ‘Get on with your work.’ Amber looked about. Everyone was writing in their spelling books. She glanced at the list on the board.

  c-o-n-t-a-i-n-e-r, she wrote.

  The next word on the list was bottle. But instead of writing it, she found herself drawing it. Drawing her bottle. She started with the big bulge at the bottom, and curved the lines up to make the narrow neck. Then she finished it off with the small glass stopper snuggled at the top.

  ‘Amber Daley, what are you doing?’

  Amber jumped in fright. Ms Kruger was standing behind her. She quickly covered her drawing and glanced up at the board, looking for the next word.

  Ms Kruger reached down and lifted Amber’s hand away. ‘It’s a wonderful drawing, Amber, but you should save that sort of thing for art. Now, concentrate on your spelling. Really, it’s no wonder you never do well in your spelling tests.’

  Amber heard a snigger. She glanced around just as Rachel leaned over and whispered something in Marissa’s ear. Then Marissa looked over at Amber and laughed.

  ‘That’s enough, Marissa,’ said Ms Kruger. ‘I see you haven’t finished yours either.’

  Marissa scowled.

  Ms Kruger moved on. ‘Good girl, Rachel. All done. You can take out your maths book now. The rest of you, get a move on.’ And she walked to the front of the room and started rubbing the spelling list off the whiteboard word by word. Amber missed the last two.

  ‘Now, today in maths we’re going to be working with money,’ said Ms Kruger, not waiting any longer. She took the lid off a marker and waved her arm across the whiteboard. ‘This is our jumble table. I want you to name some things we might be selling at the fete and then we’ll give them all prices.’

  ‘Teapot,’ called someone down the front of the room.

  ‘Games,’ said someone else.

  ‘Knives and forks.’

  ‘Cricket bat.’

  ‘Vases.’

  Ms Kruger drew frantically to keep up with the suggestions. She covered most of the board with her drawings.

  ‘Any more before I give all of these price tags?’ she asked. ‘What about your bottle, Amber?’

  All eyes swung to Amber. She felt her cheeks grow hot.

  ‘Ahmm … ah…’ she stammered as she tried to tuck a strand of short hair behind her ear, ‘I don’t think … I mean … it’s … ah …’

  Why don’t you keep it? Mrs Heggety had said.

  ‘It’s not for the jumble sale,’ Amber blurted out.

  ‘Oh,’ said Ms Kruger, looking over her glasses. ‘So it’s not something you collected for the fete?’

  ‘Ahmm … yes … I mean, no.’ Amber’s face was a raging fire now.

  Ms Kruger took a deep breath and looked around the class before letting her eyes fall back on Amber. ‘I might just need to remind you all,’ she said, ‘that if you’ve been given something for the jumble sale, you can’t just keep it because you like it. It has to go onto the table. If you want it, you have to buy it back on the day of the fete.’

  Amber felt everyone staring at her. She wanted to stand up and tell them Mrs Heggety had said she could keep it. That it was special and that it had belonged to Mr Heggety’s Uncle Roger.

  But she said nothing.

  ‘I’ll tell you what, Amber,’ said Ms Kruger. ‘Why don’t you come out and draw it anyway, since you made such a good job of drawing it in your spelling book?’

  Ms Kruger held out the whiteboard marker. Amber forced herself to stand on rubbery legs, and as she made her way to the front of the room she could hear Rachel and Marissa sniggering. Well, she’d show them.

  Amber drew the bottle and used the red marker to colour it, and it looked almost as beautiful as it did in real life. As she handed the marker back, she ignored the heavy feeling in her stomach, took a deep breath and said, ‘But it’s not for the jumble sale, Ms Kruger. My neighbour, Mrs Heggety, she gave it to me. It … it used to belong to her husband’s uncle …’ Amber’s hands were shaking and her face burning, and she cou
ld feel tears brimming in her eyes, but she made herself look at Ms Kruger. ‘She told me to keep it,’ she said in a soft voice.

  Ms Kruger stared down at her, tapping the palm of her hand with the marker. Amber held her breath. Would Ms Kruger make her put the bottle in the jumble sale anyway?

  But in the end, Ms Kruger just nodded.

  ‘Alright,’ she said. ‘Go on. Back to your place.’

  Amber hurried to her seat, her face hot with embarrassment.

  Chapter Four

  Amber dropped her bag inside the kitchen door, glad it was Friday afternoon. She wouldn’t have to see Marissa for two whole days. She only wished she could say the same about Rachel, but she’d be at the netball carnival tomorrow. Amber’s heart sank at the thought.

  ‘Why the long face?’ asked Mum, pouring some juice.

  Amber forced herself to smile.

  ‘You still missing Bethany?’ Mum pushed the glass across the table.

  ‘No, not much,’ she lied. Her throat tightened. Bethany. Her best friend since kindy. There wasn’t a day went by that Amber didn’t miss her now she’d moved away. She let herself wonder what Bethany might be doing right now, then forced herself to stop. What if she was with a new friend?

  ‘I’m going to clean up some of that stuff Mrs Heggety gave me,’ she said as she grabbed her juice and snatched up a couple of biscuits – plain boring biscuits, not cream biscuits like Mrs Heggety’s. She made her way to the laundry, found a rag and, as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, she began to shake off the gloomy day she’d had at school.

  Sitting cross-legged on her bed, she forgot about everything except the small ruby bottle. Her fingers tingled as she traced the grooves that swirled from base to neck. As she made herself comfortable, she began to rub.

  ‘If you turned out to be a genie’s bottle,’ she whispered, ‘I could have my very own genie and it would do anything I asked it to.’ It could bring Bethany back. Then maybe Marissa would leave me alone.

  She sighed, knowing that wasn’t likely to happen.