The House of Puzzles

by Richard Newsome

  After dinner, the students split into groups of twenty for some get-to-know-you activities. Gerald was more than happy that he and Ruby were in the same group as they and eighteen others gathered in a cosy room lined floor-to-ceiling with bookcases. All the tables and chairs had been pushed back and everyone formed a circle on a colourful Indian rug on the floor.

  A slender woman, her black hair cut in the style of a 1920s flapper, sat in the middle of the circle and smiled at the students.

  ‘For those who don’t know me, I am Miss Davenport,’ she said. ‘I have been a teacher at St Hilda’s for five years.’

  A boy sitting opposite Gerald piped up. ‘What do you teach?’

  Miss Davenport arched an eyebrow and peered across at the boy. ‘I teach young girls how to become young ladies, part of which involves teaching them not to interrupt people.’

  The boy wriggled in his place. ‘But what if I don’t want to be a young lady?’ he said, winking at his friend next to him.

  Miss Davenport arched her other eyebrow. ‘And who might you be?’ she asked the boy.

  ‘I’m Charlie Blagden,’ he said, grinning.

  ‘Well, Charlie Blagden,’ Miss Davenport said, ‘if you agree not to interrupt me, I’ll agree not to turn you into a young lady. Surgically, or otherwise.’

  Charlie’s grin faded a touch, but he nodded nonetheless.

  ‘Excellent,’ Miss Davenport continued. ‘The next ten weeks will bring a lifetime of memories. The people in this room will be your camp group for the term. We’ll take classes together and do extra-curricular activities together. Now is the chance to get to know a little bit about each other. I’d like each of you to introduce yourselves to the group. Tell us who you are, one interesting thing about you and what you want to achieve in life.’ She clapped her hands together and pointed to a blond boy sitting across from Gerald. ‘You can start.’

  Gerald had only been at St Cuthbert’s for a single term so he was yet to meet everyone in his year level. But he knew the boy well enough by reputation alone.

  ‘I’m Alex,’ the boy said, casting his eyes around the circle. ‘Alex Baranov. But I expect a few of you from St Hilda’s know that already.’ A knot of girls sitting near Ruby started to giggle. Alex smiled at them. ‘An interesting thing about me? Well, my family owns a few oilfields in Siberia so I guess you could say we’re pretty well off. In fact,’—he looked straight at Ruby and winked—‘we’re really well off. Put it this way, my father’s a member of the Billionaires’ Club and they don’t invite you to join that place just because you’re good looking.’ He paused for a moment to comb his fingers through his hair. ‘Though, as luck would have it…’ The girls next to Ruby giggled again. Alex tilted his head their way. ‘When I leave St Custard’s I want to be just like my father: good looking and stupendously wealthy.’

  He sat back with a satisfied grin.

  Ruby leaned close to Gerald’s ear and whispered, ‘Ten whole weeks?’

  Gerald smothered a smirk.

  ‘Thank you, Alex,’ Miss Davenport said. ‘That was very…revealing. Now, Ruby, you’re new to Hilda’s this term. Let’s hear from you.’

  Ruby propped onto her knees and clasped her hands in her lap. ‘Hello everyone,’ she said. ‘My name is Ruby Valentine and I’ve only been at St Hilda’s for a week. I was at school in London before, but I’m really enjoying my time so far. I love gymnastics and I’m going to try everything I can to be the first person to achieve the Triple Crown—whatever it is we’re supposed to do.’

  ‘That’s terrific, Ruby,’ Miss Davenport said. ‘And what do you want to achieve after you leave school’—she cast a glance at Alex—‘other than being rich and good looking.’

  Alex chucked his chin towards Ruby. ‘She’s halfway there already,’ he said. The girls next to Ruby sniggered.

  Ruby blushed deeply and stared at the rug in front of her knees. ‘I’m not sure what I want to achieve just yet,’ she said, ‘but whatever it is, it will be something I do through my own efforts, not something that’s been handed to me by someone else.’

  Gerald looked across to Alex. The smug grin had frozen on the boy’s face like a death mask. His eyes never left Ruby. ‘That’s a bit rich,’ Alex said at last, ‘coming from someone whose boyfriend inherited everything that he’s worth.’

  A crisp silence settled on the room, like a frost over an apple orchard. Miss Davenport narrowed her eyes on Alex Baranov and was about to rebuke him when Ruby spoke up. ‘Three things,’ she said, directing her gaze straight at Baranov. The boy cocked his chin and returned the icy glare. ‘First,’ Ruby said, ‘Gerald is not my boyfriend, though he is possibly my best friend. Second, he is worth more than any sum of money that even someone as shallow as you could possibly dream of. And third, shut your stupid face.’

  The group burst into hysterics, with most of the girls loudly applauding Ruby. Alex Baranov’s cheeks burned red, making his ice-blue eyes glow even brighter.

  Gerald sat silently as the catcalls and jeers rained around him.

  His insides were aglow. He was possibly Ruby’s best friend? How good was that! He managed to blithely overlook the ease with which Ruby had dispatched the boyfriend question. That was a minor detail, a mere speed bump in the highway of his plans to ask her to be his girlfriend.

  ‘You’re that Ruby Valentine?’ The voice broke through the hubbub. A boy sitting opposite Ruby was studying her face intently. Gerald recognised him from his French class: Kobe Abraham.

  ‘You were in the newspapers over the Christmas break,’ the boy said, his eyes growing wider. ‘Did someone really try to cut out your heart?’

  The room could not have gone more quiet had a penguin walked in and asked for directions to the sauna.

  Every eye was fixed on Ruby. Even Miss Davenport, who appeared to be a stickler for maintaining control in the classroom, was reeled in by Kobe’s question.

  Ruby cleared her throat with a tight cough. ‘I may have had a run in with someone…’ she began.

  ‘It was in a torture chamber under a farm on an island off Sweden,’ Kobe said, his gaze intensifying. ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’

  Ruby raised her eyes to look at the boy. ‘You must have read a lot of newspapers on the holidays,’ she said.

  Kobe nodded eagerly. ‘I like to stay up to date,’ he said. ‘The man who attacked you wanted to use your heart in a potion that could cure all known diseases, right?’

  Ruby’s eyes returned to the rug.

  One of the girls who had been giggling at Alex chirped up. ‘What’s the matter? Couldn’t he find it?’ Her friend emitted a sharp snort. ‘Or is it because your heart already belongs to Gerald Wilkins?’ The two girls collapsed in laughter again.

  Miss Davenport found her voice. ‘That is enough Millicent. You and Gretchen, control yourselves.’

  The girls smiled sweetly. ‘Yes, Miss Davenport,’ they chorused.

  The get-to-know-you session dragged on for an hour, during which the campers got to know about Kobe’s obsession with current events (‘If you’re not in the know, you’re in the nowhere.’), Millicent’s fascination with fashion (‘Those hiking boots are so last season.’), and Ch
arlie’s desire to open the batting for the English cricket team (‘I’ll run, but I’ll never walk!’).

  Finally, it was Gerald’s turn.

  After an hour of sitting cross-legged on the rug, he unhooked his feet and stretched out, accidently kicking Ruby. ‘Sorry,’ he said, patting Ruby on the knee. This prompted a barrage of smooching noises from Millicent and Gretchen.

  ‘Thank you, ladies. That will do,’ Miss Davenport said. She looked at Gerald. ‘Please, go on.’

  Gerald gave a curt nod. ‘My name is Gerald Wilkins,’ he said, ‘and I’m—’

  ‘The richest kid in the world!’ Kobe could not restrain himself. He was bouncing with excitement. ‘He inherited twenty billion pounds from his great aunt who was killed on the orders of Sir Mason Green, not that Green was ever convicted because he faked his own death right in the witness box at the Old Bailey and escaped, but then Gerald caught him again in Greece and he was locked up in jail, but he escaped again and was involved in the kidnapping of a whole bunch of people from the British Museum and the theft of some ancient document that once belonged to an old European emperor and supposedly had the recipe for a cure-all medicine that required someone to rip out Ruby’s heart, but she got away by stabbing a guy in the head with his own nose!’ Kobe paused to take a breath. He looked at Gerald with wide eyes. ‘Did I miss anything?’

  Gerald chewed his bottom lip for a moment. ‘You forgot the Indian death cult and the woman with the poison blowgun, but apart from that I think you pretty much got it all.’ He looked at Miss Davenport. ‘Is that enough?’

  ‘Is all that true?’ she asked, her eyes bulging in their sockets.

  Gerald shrugged. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I guess it is.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Kobe said. ‘See? That’s why you’ve gotta read the papers. To stay informed.’

  Then another voice chimed in.

  ‘So how is your friend from the museum? The professor who went missing. Have you heard from him?’

  Gerald looked across to Alex Baranov, who was eyeing him intently. In one term and one week at St Cuthbert’s, that might have been the first time Alex Baranov had spoken to him.

  ‘He’s still missing,’ Gerald said through thin lips. ‘The police are looking for him and the other people from the museum.’

  Alex wrinkled his nose. ‘You must feel terrible,’ he said. ‘You know, the way you’re the reason he went missing.’

  Gerald muttered under his breath, ‘Ten whole weeks.’

  Miss Davenport, clearly glad the session had come to an end, wished everyone a good night and ushered them towards their cabins. Gerald was making his way to the door, mumbling to Ruby about what a jerk Alex Baranov appeared to be, when he was grabbed by the shoulder. He shouted a loud ‘Ow!’ and swung around to find Millicent and Gretchen scowling at him.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ Millicent demanded. She was pointing to the mud-smeared pillowcase that Gerald still had tucked into his sling. He had completely forgotten he was carrying it around.

  ‘This is yours?’ he asked, pulling out the pillowslip.

  Millicent snatched the grubby cloth from Gerald’s fingers and flipped it inside out to reveal a nametag sewn into the lining: Millicent Corfield. ‘Have you been snooping around in our cabin? ‘Coz if you have, it takes just one word to Miss Davenport and you are on the first bus home.’

  Ruby slid in front of Gerald like a shield before a knight. The tip of her nose was just millimetres from Millicent’s face. ‘It was given to him by a coward who was too afraid to show his face,’ Ruby said. ‘Now, does that sound like anyone you might know?’

  Millicent’s jaw tightened but she said nothing.

  ‘Besides,’ Ruby continued, ‘I would hate to be the girl who ran to teacher on the first night of camp just because her precious Hello Kitty pillowcase got some dirt on it. You know, especially because all the stress threatened to bring on her chronic bedwetting problem. That would be a terrible thing to live with. For ten weeks.’

  Millicent’s eyes shot wide. ‘I don’t have a bedwetting problem!’ she said, her face glowing red. A few heads turned their way and Millicent dropped her voice to a thick whisper. ‘That’s a complete lie!’

  Ruby gave an idle shrug. ‘Maybe. But you know how these stories get around.’ She gave Millicent and Gretchen a look of disdain. ‘See you for breakfast, ladies.’

  Ruby turned on her heel and strode out the door, leaving Gerald behind. He looked first to Millicent and then to Gretchen, aware of the death stares they were directing his way. ‘Um, it’s probably best not to get on Ruby’s bad side,’ he said with a nervous chuckle. ‘She can be a little…stubborn.’ He nodded towards the pillowcase in Millicent’s hand. ‘Have a good sleep,’ he said, then, as an afterthought, ‘Meow.’

  Gerald turned tail and bolted out the door to catch up with Ruby.

  Chapter 3

  When Gerald finally managed to drop off to sleep, he dreamed a giant, insanely grinning kitten was attacking him. He sat upright with a gasp, almost waking Sam in the bunk beneath him.

  Gerald rolled onto his back and moved his right elbow across his belly to the only position where the pain in his shoulder would ease. He stared at the ceiling and sighed. The cabin contained three sets of bunks. The buzz of five sleeping boys seemed to make the air vibrate. Gerald was sharing with Charlie Blagden and Kobe Abraham from the get-to-know-you session, as well as Nic Lloyd and Giles Spofforth, who both played in Gerald’s school rugby team, and Sam. It was a good cabin to be in. Certainly better than having to share with Alex Baranov and his cronies, Gerald thought.

  ‘Little blond twerp,’ Gerald mouthed into the darkness. His cheeks burned at how rude Alex had been to Ruby. And as for him saying that it was Gerald’s fault that Professor McElderry was still missing, well that was absurd. It was hardly Gerald’s fault that Mason Green had ordered the professor’s kidnapping. Besides, what could Gerald do about it? Just because everyone he got close to seemed to end up on the receiving end of Mason Green’s wrath wasn’t Gerald’s doing. At least, Gerald frowned into the darkness, not entirely his doing.

  A movement at the window caught his eye. He rolled his head to get a better look.

  Snow.

  Gerald kicked his legs from his sleeping bag and dropped silently to the ground. He stepped across to the window in his thick woollen socks and peered outside.

  The air was alive with snowflakes, white wintry fluff dancing across a blackened stage. Gerald stared at the scene with wonder. The ground was carpeted. Tree branches stripped bare of leaves cradled thick clumps of snow in their arms. It was a postcard.

  Perfect.

  The setting was just what Gerald wanted for his grand plan to ask Ruby to be his girlfriend.

  He had it all figured. It would be on a night just like this one. As the other students made their way to the various after-dinner activities that the teachers had prepared for them, Gerald would take Ruby by the arm and hold her back until they were alone. It would be snowing and a few flakes would settle on the tip of Ruby’s nose. He would brush them away, then say some special words (still to be determined—possibly a limerick) and give her a gift with a ribbon tied around it. Ruby wou
ld be overjoyed by the gesture and would agree to the whole girlfriend arrangement on the spot. Then it would be a warm embrace and kisses and she would gaze at him in wonder and hug him again and squeeze his hand and laugh and everything would be a blur of pulse-thumping perfection.

  Too easy.

  Dr Crispin would hate it.

  And Gerald had already bought the perfect gift: a brand new copy of Zombie Viscera Quest V for X-Box. And if Ruby didn’t like it, Gerald could always play it. Win–win.

  Now all Gerald had to do was go through with the plan.

  Breakfast the next morning was a rowdy affair as two hundred hungry and excited students crammed the dining hall. The clatter of cutlery on crockery echoed in the rafters.

  Gerald and Sam eased onto a bench seat and put their plates, piled with bacon, fried mushrooms, tomatoes and eggs, on the long wooden table. Felicity emerged from the kitchen and wandered over to join them with a small bowl of porridge and a fruit salad.

  Sam looked at Felicity’s breakfast and wrinkled his nose. ‘Have they run out of food already?’ he asked.

  Felicity stabbed a piece of kiwi fruit with her fork and popped it in her mouth. She peered at the mound of bacon that was congealing on Sam’s plate in a shimmering swamp of fat and gristle. ‘One can only hope, Sam, that your life will be as rich and full as your arteries are going to be,’ she said.

  Sam stuffed a rasher of bacon into his mouth. ‘You’re funny,’ he said through his mouthful.

  Felicity blanched and looked away. ‘That is terribly sick-making.’

  Gerald upended a tomato sauce bottle over his plate, drowning its contents in thick red goop. ‘Where’s Ruby?’ he asked. He was excited about his plan and already had a good line on a limerick. Another day of drafting and it should be ready for the big event.