by Lauren Child
‘He teaches philosophy class Clance, he never will drop it.’
‘He goes on and on debating it for so long that I actually do want to do him, my fellow man, harm.’
‘And maybe that’s his point Clance,’ said Ruby. ‘Maybe he’s trying to get you to see that you have the same instinct to do bad as you do to do good.’
‘Well, he might just regret it,’ said Clancy.
‘If it makes you feel any better, I had chemistry class and I didn’t do so well either.’
‘How come?’ asked Clancy.
‘My nose.’ Ruby pointed to it. ‘Look at me, I can hardly breathe let alone smell.’
‘So?’ said Clancy.
‘So the whole lousy class was about smell. We had to sniff things like solutions and compounds to see if we could identify anything that gave us a clue about their chemical structure. And me? – I couldn’t smell a frankfurter if you stuck it up my nose.’
‘You probably shoulda stayed at home Rube,’ said Clancy, who really wouldn’t have minded skipping school, today being the day he got his French exam results. Now he had them he would prefer not to go home. ‘The bad news is Madame Loup says I have to resit my French exam,’ he said. ‘She says I’ve got one more chance, but what’s the point? I’m never gonna pass.’
‘Yeah, you are Clance, I swear you’re gonna pass. You got a convince yourself you can do it. And when you do maybe your dad might be feeling a little more generous; maybe he’ll decide to help you out with buying a new bike.’ She gave him a friendly slap on the back. ‘I mean stranger things have happened; my mom saw a giant pig in the backyard.’
‘You know you might just be right,’ said Clancy, his face brightening. ‘Maybe if I pass my French my dad will be so happy that he’ll decide to buy me the Windrush 2000.’
‘Well,’ said Ruby, ‘hope is a wonderful thing.’
He heard the
familiar sound of
spiked heels on
hard floor
. . .and waited for the door to open. He had a plan now: he would give her the information she wanted, lead her right to it, only he would surprise her at the last minute. She wouldn’t know what had hit her. She had no idea what she was dealing with; she had no idea just how dangerous it was.
Chapter 23.
The scent of bubblegum
RUBY WENT ON HOME, keen to get her homework done and put a little practice into using the gadgets she’d been given for the Melrose Dorff stake-out. She hoped to get a little quiet time before dinner.
As she walked in the door, she heard her mother’s voice.
‘You’ll never guess what Barbara, but I’m pretty sure that pig I saw is a hippo. A small one, but there’s little doubt in my mind it was a hippo. If it wasn’t, then it’s a pig with awful fat legs.’
Ruby caught these words as she opened the front door; her mom was in her bedroom chatting on the phone. Ruby peeped round the door and saw her sitting at her dressing table, examining her face while talking to her great friend Barbara Bartholomew. She would no doubt be talking for a very long time.
Barbara had obviously cracked one of her Barbara jokes because Sabina was practically busting a gut: tears were rolling down her cheeks and she was incapable of speech. Ruby sprinted silently upstairs; now might be an excellent time to make what her mother would call an unsuitable snack for a growing child.
She tiptoed into the kitchen, not wanting to alert anyone who might be around to stop her, meaning Mrs Digby.
When Ruby came back downstairs a half-hour later, her mom was still talking on the phone, but this time to Marjorie Humbert. Ruby knew this because Sabina had her on speaker so she could at the same time paint her toes. Marjorie’s rich voice squawked out of the tinny box.
‘I just hope that forest fire doesn’t head this way.’
‘What forest fire?’ said Sabina.
‘Oh, you haven’t heard? Clover Canyon has caught and people are worrying it’s going to reach Great Bear, but it seems to be heading north-west so Twinford should be safe.’
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ said Sabina. ‘This house has been razed to the ground once already. I’m not sure I could go through that again.’
‘No,’ said Marjorie sympathetically, ‘and it would be such a shame if the perfume launch was cancelled.’
Ruby went back upstairs to the living room and got comfortable. She liked to have the whole room to herself, and now if she was lucky she could settle into an hour of uninterrupted reading before Clancy stopped by. She was sure he would since he was probably dodging his father, not wanting to give him the bad news about his French test.
Ruby got her wish for peace and quiet and had had the living room all to herself for the past hour. She was happily lying on the couch, blowing bubblegum bubbles and reading several books all at the same time, and only looked up when she heard her father’s shoes.
‘Shucks Rube, you know how I feel about bubblegum.’
He had picked up the scent seconds after he crossed the threshold. Brant Redfort hated bubblegum; not only did he think it vulgar, both the chewing and the bubble-blowing, but he also hated it because of the memories the smell of it evoked, one in particular.
Once, when he was a ten-year-old kid, a boy called Mickey Durrant had cruelly rubbed Hubble-Yum into his scalp. The result was an ugly, close-cropped haircut, executed by Mrs Bell the school secretary – boy, should that woman never have been allowed to wield a pair of scissors. Just a whiff of that fake-strawberry smell and he was back there in that schoolyard, feeling frustrated and humiliated. For Brant Redfort, bubblegum represented all that was wrong with childhood.
‘Jeez, sorry dad, it’s Clancy’s. He left it the other evening and I just got kinda hungry studying,’ said Ruby. ‘You know, too busy to grab a snack. . . and what with Mrs Digby being out and all.’
She handed her dad the pack like she couldn’t care less about bubblegum.
None of this was actually true: Clancy Crew wasn’t even a small fan of the stuff – sure he chewed gum, but not bubblegum; he always found it went sort of dry after about ten minutes of chewing – no, he preferred straight chewing gum, the mintier the better.
The reason Ruby tiptoed around the issue of bubblegum was because Brant Redfort was very determined about it and when he was determined about something he couldn’t be budged. Perhaps this was because he felt truly strongly about very little – good manners being top of his list, which was a fair enough thing to feel strongly about. The importance of saying Gesundheit when a person sneezed? Not so sensible.
The bubblegum thing fell somewhere in between – nothing odd about not being keen on it, but slightly odd to not even allow it in the house. Ruby Redfort was a person who knew her own mind and didn’t like being pushed around; however, she was also blessed with common sense. She had a rule – RULE 42: DON’T WASTE TIME ARGUING WITH SOMEONE WHO WON’T IN A MILLION YEARS CHANGE THEIR MIND.
Ruby took the balled-up pink out of her mouth.
‘So how are you planning to enjoy the vacation honey? You got ideas?’
‘Not really,’ said Ruby, only telling half the truth. ‘Nothing firm anyhow.’
‘Well, if you’re looking for adventure, you could always join Camp Wichitino. I don’t want my girl getting bored. Remember, you’re only a kid once in your life.’ He sighed. ‘Might as well have fun – live a little.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind Dad.’
‘That’s my girl,’ said Brant, mussing his daughter’s hair, an affectionate gesture that Ruby always found irksome.
He left the room and she heard his expensive shoes squeak as he made his way down the stairs. Ruby turned back to her books and as she did so popped the bubblegum back into her mouth.
What she was reading was pretty interesting: it related to what she had been learning in class, concerning smell and memory. Many scientific studies had been carried out into just why smell is such a strong link to past events. Her dad’s problem with bubbl
egum totally fitted with the theory. The studies seemed to agree that it was to do with the fact that:
Olfaction is different from the other senses. It is extremely old in evolutionary terms, and has more than one pathway into the brain.
Like the other senses – taste, touch, sight and sound – it reaches the cerebral cortex via the thalamus, which regulates unconscious processes.
But unlike the other senses, smell also has a direct projection into the limbic system, a part of the brain surrounding the thalamus and so closely associated with feelings that it is often called the ‘emotional brain’. Specifically, smell has a pathway that runs into the amygdala and the hippocampus. The amygdala is implicated in emotion and instinct. The hippocampus deals with memory and learning by association.
In other words: smell signals directly enter parts of the brain that deal with emotion and memory. This means that they can easily arouse strong recollections of the past, along with accompanying feelings.
The reason her father reacted so badly to the odour of bubblegum had nothing to do with the actual smell of fake strawberries, but the fact that he associated the smell of fake strawberries with something bad that had happened to him long ago, and the way it made him feel. Just a whiff of that smell triggered a memory and set him on edge.
It was a remarkable thing when you thought about it. That Ruby, who wasn’t even on the planet when her father had endured this schoolboy mishap, could so easily take her father back in time, conjuring the same emotions he had felt when he was just ten, was kind of remarkable, and all this just by chewing bubblegum.
Ruby didn’t hear the doorbell; she had moved up to her room so she could concentrate better on what she was studying.
Clancy was surprised when Brant Redfort opened the front door and handed him a not quite full pack of bubblegum.
‘I don’t approve of this Clancy, but it’s yours to use off the premises. I hope you’ll forgive me for pointing out that it will do you no good at all. I’m sure it’s bad for the gut. Anyway, if that’s understood, then we’ll say no more about it.’ He patted him on the shoulder. ‘It’s swell to see you Clancy. I hope you’ll be joining us for supper.’
‘O. . . K. . .’ said Clancy a little uncertainly. ‘Is Ruby in?’
‘She sure is, go on up.’
Clancy scooted upstairs as fast as he was able, knocked on the door and entered the room.
‘Your dad’s acting weird,’ he said.
‘Must be the temperature,’ said Ruby. ‘Now take a look at this.’ She took out the miniature camera Spectrum had issued her with. It was a tiny device set into a decorative fly, which was attached to a ring to be worn on the middle or ring finger of a small hand. The lens was in the fly’s eye and photographs were taken by pressing the ring band at the back of the ring with the thumb of either hand. It was very discreet and simple to use. One could point it pretty accurately at what one wanted to photograph and take pictures without arousing suspicion.
Clancy was impressed. ‘That’s a nice piece of kit,’ he said appreciatively. ‘What are you expected to do with it?’
‘It’s for a stake-out at the Let Them Smell Roses launch.’
‘Huh?’
‘Spectrum has me on stake-out duty at the Melrose Dorff perfume launch. I’m gonna be there with my folks so it makes sense for me to tag along.’
‘So what’s the stake-out in aid of?’ asked Clancy.
‘Some pretty pricey jewellery has been disappearing from the store. I’ll be nosing around while everyone’s drinking cocktails and doing the whole socialising thing.’
‘So what does this thief guy do?’ asked Clancy. ‘Climb up the drainpipe and in the window?’
‘No one has seen him and no one has worked out how he could be getting into the building,’ said Ruby.
‘Perhaps it’s an inside job,’ said Clancy. ‘You thought of that?’
‘Yeah, we have, but you see at night this kinda grille thing comes down surrounding the Katayoun & Anahita cabinets – it’s like a super huge cage, so there’s no way anyone’s gonna get inside that.’
‘But what’s to stop them raising it during the night? If it’s someone who works in the store, then they’d know how to raise it back up.’ Clancy was pretty sure this was how it was managed. ‘It has to be a disgruntled shop worker,’ he said.
‘Can’t be done,’ said Ruby. ‘It’s all automatic; as soon as the shop closes, the grille comes down; as soon as it opens, it goes up no involvement from the store security or anyone who works in the store.’
‘So. . .’ said Clancy. ‘With this stake-out deal, you’re trying to catch the jewel thieves in the act?’
‘That’s the idea, but I don’t think it’s very likely.’
‘And what’s that?’ asked Clancy, pointing at what looked like a bracelet lying next to Ruby on the floor.
‘Very small binoculars,’ said Ruby, picking up the teeny gadget.
‘Cool,’ said Clancy. ‘What’s it meant to be?’
‘You know, a bangle,’ said Ruby, slipping it on her wrist. ‘You wear it like so,’ she demonstrated, ‘and when you want to take a closer look at something you flip this piece up’ – she was referring to the hinged gold figure of eight with its circles of decorative glass – ‘then you can rest your chin on your hand like you’re just sorta thinking when really you’re looking through a pair of binoculars.’
‘I didn’t think you were into jewellery,’ said Clancy.
‘This isn’t jewellery buster, it’s state of the art. By the way, what happened with your French exam?’ asked Ruby.
‘One last chance,’ said Clancy. ‘So what happened with your LB meeting?’ he asked.
‘One last chance,’ said Ruby, ‘maybe not even that – I wouldn’t trust LB not to change her mind, that’s why I’ve got a do well with this whole Melrose Dorff case, otherwise I reckon I’m gonna get kicked out for sure.’
Clancy had never seen Ruby look so worried about anything: all that confidence was gone, all that Ruby Redfort cool had melted away, and suddenly she was just like him, fallible.
He smiled as he
smelled the fragrance
of Turkish delight. . .
. . .and he knew who had entered the room before he had even lifted his eyes to meet hers. ‘I’m ready,’ he said. ‘Shall we go?’
She cocked her head to one side and said, ‘Slight change of plan.’
He searched her face, puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The thing is, I’ve been doing some research of my own; you know the City Library is full of useful information, books on every subject, every subject under the stars, amazing how much one can learn.’
His face fell.
‘Who would have thought it was going to be so simple.’ She smiled. ‘Yes,’ continued Lorelei, ‘I know how to find your creature and I know how you control it too.’
She reached into her purse and pulled out the gun. ‘Time to say búcsú, is that what you Hungarians say? I’m a little rusty I’m afraid. Anyway, no matter, however you say it, it’s goodbye and this time it’s final.’
She extended her arm and pulled the trigger.
Click.
Nothing.
She frowned and then laughed. ‘You know I really can’t be bothered to kill you tonight, I have somewhere to be and my dress isn’t ironed and goodness knows where I stored those spare bullets – no time to look.’
She left the room, clanking the door shut behind her, her stiletto heels echoing down the corridor.
Relief did not register on the man’s face; death was inevitable now that his secret was discovered; he had no plan B and was beyond hope, so it didn’t matter when it came.
He gazed up at the broken skylight and then in a blink of an eye all that changed. He turned to look at the pile of metal debris in the corner of the room.
Plan B, he thought.
Chapter 24.
All that glitters
‘WHAT’S GOING ON
WITH YOU CREW? I saw you loitering around the bike shop last night. Is it that new sales girl – you fallen in love or something?’
‘Cut it out Del,’ said Clancy. ‘I don’t even know what girl you’re talking about.’
‘It’s not the girl,’ said Mouse, ‘it’s the bike. He goes there every day, don’t you Clance?’
‘How do you know?’ asked Clancy.
‘I’ve seen you lots of times,’ said Mouse.
Ruby and her friends were making their way to school from the bus stop, and they had stopped by the waffle stand to grab a bite before class.
‘Well, it must be some bike,’ said Elliot. ‘Because that salesgirl sure is pretty.’
‘Too pretty for you Finch,’ said Del.
‘What? You saying she wouldn’t go out with me?’
‘Not in a million,’ said Del.
‘So you’re saying she’d date Clancy?’
‘I’m saying she wouldn’t date either of you.’
‘That’s what you think,’ said Elliot.
Clancy wasn’t interested in this debate; he was busy thinking about the bike and how it would never be his unless his dad grew an actual heart or he himself robbed a bank.
‘Never gonna happen,’ muttered Clancy.
‘What?’ said Ruby. ‘You still down about that blue bike?’
‘It’s a Windrush 2000,’ said Clancy.
‘Clance, you either got a stop feeling sorry for yourself and make it happen or. . .’
‘Or what?’ asked Clancy.
‘Or. . . get over it. I mean I’ll loan you my bike if you’d lighten up for twenty minutes. I’m not really riding much now my foot is all sewn up – feel free to ride it until you get a new one.’ She looked at him, his face a picture of dejection.