by Lauren Child
Ruby thought about labs and what they meant to her, what was the first thing she thought of? There were Bunsen burners and gas flames – gas burned blue. There were metals in golds, silver, copper and browns, various chemical liquids and compounds and these came in a whole series of colours and there were tests one did which involved colour, like the litmus test. Red was for acidic and blue for alkaline; purple was neutral. Neutral seemed right for a lab so this was the colour of the door she went in search of.
A good choice as it turned out.
Ruby knocked and found a woman in goggles working at a long white bench covered in a lot of neatly arranged bottles and beakers and glass dishes. She sort of looked up when Ruby entered.
‘Hello,’ she said, ‘I’m just trying to work out if this substance is corrosive or not. I’ll be with you in a mo.’
Several minutes passed and then the woman said, ‘Thought so,’ and put down her tongs and pulled off her lab gloves.
‘How can I help?’ She looked at Ruby through her goggles and said, ‘Gosh, you look young.’
Ruby was slightly thrown off guard by the lab technician’s easiness – she didn’t seem to mind some school kid walking in unannounced, like protocol at Spectrum was no big thing. Ruby looked at the badge clipped to the white coat the woman wore.
‘Your name SJ?’ she asked.
‘I’d be pretty weird if I was wearing a badge which said SJ if I wasn’t SJ, don’t you think?’ Then she thought about it. ‘But actually you’re right to ask because I could have borrowed SJ’s lab coat and I could really be called Beryl or Anastasia, I wouldn’t mind that – being called Anastasia – not Beryl, I’d mind that quite a lot.’
‘My name’s Ruby,’ said Ruby.
‘As in Redfort?’ asked SJ. ‘If so, then I think I’ve heard of you. Who sent you?’
Ruby thought it might be best to come clean and see where it took her; some people liked this approach and the lab technician seemed like she might be someone who would.
‘No one,’ said Ruby. ‘I’m not really supposed to be here.’
‘Nor am I,’ said SJ, ‘it’s my lunch break. What do you want to ask me?’
‘I’ve got some things I’d like you to look at.’
‘Come on, hand them over.’ SJ pulled on a fresh pair of gloves. ‘You can’t be too careful.’
Ruby opened her satchel and took out the plastic folders containing the papers. SJ, having wiped the bench clean, carefully spread them out across the worktop. She looked carefully at the letterheads then she looked at them again through a magnifying glass and then through a microscope. She held them up to the light and then she switched on an infrared light and an ultraviolet light. She did a flame test, a water test, dipped the corner of one into a solution and tried gently baking another in an oven but nothing happened. The papers seemed to be utterly blank; the letterheads were just letterheads.
‘That’s a surprise,’ said SJ. ‘I was expecting to find a microdot or some sophisticated invisible writing, something super clever – but nothing.’
‘Oh well,’ said Ruby, ‘they aren’t what I thought they were.’
‘They pong a bit, don’t they?’ said SJ, blowing her nose. ‘I’m not good on perfume, makes my nose run.’ She blew hard. ‘You know, they might simply be perfumed notepaper. People use it, don’t ask me why.’
‘But isn’t it a bit weird to send people pieces of perfumed notepaper unmarked?’ said Ruby.
‘Not if you happen to be a perfumer,’ said SJ. ‘Then I would think it very reasonable. Now I really do need to grab a sandwich before I positively faint.’
Much to Ruby’s disappointment, this all made sense; the person all these letters were addressed to might very well be a perfumer, in which case what was the big mystery? The only thing that didn’t quite make sense was why a zookeeper might have had the address of a perfumer scribbled on the back of a receipt for an expensive watch.
And what was the ether for? She returned to the canteen and waited for Hitch. When he appeared, he looked kind of stressed, not his normal cool and collected self. When Ruby asked him if something was bothering him, he just shook his head and said, ‘LB just keeps on about that darned paperweight.’
But Ruby didn’t think Hitch’s mood had anything to do with some old paperweight.
‘I hope you don’t mind
Miss von Leyden. . .
. . .but I let your mother into your apartment.’
Lorelei stopped dead. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Your mother, she said you wanted me to let her in.’
‘And what did my mother look like?’ asked Lorelei carefully.
‘Hard to tell, she was wearing a hat with a veil.’ The doorman looked confused. ‘Did I do something wrong, is she not your mother?’ He was already reaching for the phone, fearful that he had made a terrible mistake.
‘No, no, she’s my mother,’ she reassured him. ‘I just wondered how she was looking. She’s had a long flight and of course I worry about her so.’
The doorman looked relieved. ‘Tell her, if there’s anything she needs, I’d be happy to get it for her.’
‘Oh, I will,’ nodded Lorelei as she slowly turned, stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to the fourth floor.
The woman sitting at Lorelei’s desk was perhaps fifty, fifty-five, maybe even a little older, it was hard to tell. The veiled hat sat on the chair next to her and she had taken off the smart navy coat to reveal a cheery-looking floral tea dress.
She had a brightness to her eyes, curiosity lurked there, like she wanted to know everything. Her features were delicate, she had no doubt been a beauty once, but hard times and cruel words had faded that to a cosy prettiness and her good looks only really came alive when she smiled and her blue eyes twinkled.
‘You know my mother died when I was born,’ said Lorelei. Her spiked shoes on the polished parquet gave the illusion of confidence, though Lorelei felt anything but.
‘That must have been very sad for you sweetie,’ said the woman.
‘I’ve never given it a moment’s thought,’ replied Lorelei.
‘Yes, I hear you’re good at moving on. It’s a useful quality sweetie, but you have to be careful not to move on so quickly that you don’t leave things behind, telltale things that might give you away. I’m talking about loose ends: they can unravel so easily if you don’t tie them up.’ She winked. ‘I hate loose ends, don’t you? I mean, for example, take this one about your mother; can you be so sure that she isn’t still alive? Maybe she didn’t die when you were born. I mean if I told you that you’re looking at her now, could you be sure I was lying?’ She laughed. ‘Your doorman seemed convinced.’
She shrugged before continuing. ‘But, coming back to the point as we must, I have a sneaking feeling that perhaps you haven’t been as tidy as you should have been. Perhaps you have left a few loose ends sweetie.’
Lorelei tried hard to swallow, but her throat was tight and her mouth dry.
‘You’re a sweet girl Lorelei, your fragrance suits you, but you seem a bit out of your depth here, is that true?’
Lorelei bristled a little at this, but said nothing.
‘If I hadn’t heard such good things about you, I might let my imagination run away with me, let myself think that you were trying to double-cross me, but I guess that would be silly, you being such a good girl and everything. So reliable, so professional.’
Lorelei felt her heart beating twice as fast as it should.
‘You see, I’ve come to collect what I paid you to deliver, but I get the impression that you don’t have it, is that right?’
Lorelei struggled to come up with a good answer. ‘It’s true there have been a few obstacles and things haven’t run smoothly, but your delivery will be made.’
‘OK sweetheart, I’m going to allow you to see this thing through because I think you’re capable of getting results, but if, and I say this merely to inform you, to warn you should I say. . .’ Suddenly
her appearance changed from someone kind and sympathetic to someone whose face was tough like iron.
“If you fail, then it’ll be over for you, not in a wishy-washy-you’ll-never-work-in-this-town-again way, but in a final kind of way. Does that make sense? I need you to deliver – double-cross me and. . . well, let’s leave it at that, shall we?’
She smiled kindly like a mother might smile at her baby.
‘Now, I’ve kept you long enough. I’m sure you want to get on; we can have a cuppa and a catch-up when you get back. . . if you get back.’
She got up and walked to the door, then turned back. ‘I’d close that window if I were you sweetie; you could catch your death if the weather breaks.’
Chapter 45.
Turkish delight
CLANCY HAD BEEN LOOKING ROUND THE STORE for what seemed like the whole morning, but had actually been about forty minutes. He wasn’t a very interested shopper and he was only there because it was his mom’s birthday and he had to get her something. He was prepared to use all his savings since what he had been saving up for was now an impossible dream.
Clancy Crew had never been particularly interested in money or acquiring stuff, occasionally there might be an invisible-ink pen, or pair of running shoes or bike, but these came along once in a blue moon, that was all. Now he couldn’t buy the Windrush 2000, what was the point of stuffing all this money into his piggy bank? But the gift he knew his mom wanted he couldn’t begin to afford: a bottle of 1770 was way out of his price range.
He walked out of Melrose Dorff into the searing heat, dejected. He felt worse than ever, since he had just failed in the simple mission of buying a gift for someone he had known all his life. As he made his way along the sidewalk into the park, he noticed a woman sitting on a bench, the sun on her face, the store behind her. She looked kind of familiar, but at the same time not, and it was only when he got near that he realised why. She smelled of Turkish delight.
Clancy looked at the name badge pinned to her blouse. ‘Lyla,’ he read.
The woman looked puzzled and shaded her eyes with her hand as she tried hard to recognise his face. Then she smiled a beautiful smile, like she was very pleased to see him. ‘Hey,’ said Clancy, ‘how’s your neighbour doing?’
‘That’s sweet of you to ask,’ she said. ‘He’s doing much better, thank you.’
‘He looked pretty sick,’ said Clancy. ‘I guess he must be back at home taking it easy?’
‘No,’ said the woman, ‘no, he’s out of Twinford for good now. He finally saw that city life doesn’t agree with him; he needed to grab hold of his dream.’
‘Yeah, this city can get to you sometimes,’ said Clancy. ‘I wouldn’t mind getting out of town myself, just for a while.’
‘So why don’t you?’ she said. ‘Aren’t you on summer vacation by now?’
‘Almost,’ said Clancy ‘but still I’m a long way from grabbing hold of my dream, I can tell you that for nothing, and without that there’s no chance of me going anywhere.’
‘So what is it?’ asked Lyla. ‘This thing you want so badly.’
Clancy sighed. ‘It’s a Windrush 2000,’ he replied as if that was enough information for anyone. He saw that it wasn’t and added, ‘Oh, it’s this really great bike. It handles well over any terrain, the tyres won’t puncture, the steering is super good and the speed is something else, and also. . .’ he smiled, ‘it’s this amazing blue. I would do anything just to have one good ride on it.’
The woman looked at him like she was really thinking; her face was sympathetic as if she understood just how it feels not to be able to get what you want.
‘So what were you looking for inside the store, surely not a bicycle?’ said Lyla.
‘Oh, my mom’s been yakking on about that perfume, you know, 1770,’ said Clancy. ‘I was going to buy her a bottle, but there’s no way I can afford it, even with my bike savings. She’s got a big birthday coming up and I wanted to get her something she actually wants.’
Lyla’s pretty eyes sparkled. ‘Maybe. . .’ she said, ‘maybe I can help you out with that – you were so kind to me and my friend, I’d like to do you a good turn. Come back the day after tomorrow. I think I can get you a great deal on that perfume.’
Clancy smiled. ‘Really?’ he said. ‘You’d do that?’
Lyla stood up. ‘It would be my pleasure.’ She turned to leave. ‘I never asked you what your name was.’
‘Clancy, Clancy Crew.’
‘Sounds like a detective.’ She laughed.
‘You should meet my sister Nancy,’ he said.
‘Your sister’s called Nancy Crew?’ said Lyla.*
‘Yeah, well, my parents weren’t thinking too hard when they came up with it. My dad was probably too busy thinking about becoming an ambassador.’
‘Oh, so your father is Ambassador Crew. How interesting.’
‘That’s one word for it,’ said Clancy.
She looked at her watch. ‘I’d better be getting back,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose you could do me a small favour, could you?’
‘Probably,’ said Clancy.
‘I don’t suppose you have any gum, do you? I have the most strange taste in my mouth – must be all that perfume I’ve been mixing, it’s hard not to breathe it in. . . Bubblegum would do just fine.’
‘You’re in luck,’ said Clancy, ‘I have both.’ He handed her his chewing gum and Ruby’s pack of Hubble-Yum.
Lyla held the bubblegum to her nose and breathed in the fake-strawberry smell.
‘Oh, I remember this brand.’ She took another long sniff. ‘It takes me right back. . . like I smelled it yesterday.’
‘Keep it,’ said Clancy.
‘Thanks,’ said Lyla and she began to walk off down the path back towards the store.
‘Hey,’ called Clancy, ‘so you never said– what do you want?’
Lyla laughed. ‘Nothing much, but I wouldn’t mind being impossibly rich; it could be fun, all that money, all that power, or maybe just world domination.’
‘I don’t think I can help you with that,’ shouted Clancy, smiling.
‘You never know,’ said Lyla.
Chapter 46.
Gut instinct
RUBY HAD GONE TO BED UNUSUALLY EARLY and so was wide awake when Hitch called up at 6 am the next morning. She was lying on her bed reading one of her comics and lazily reached out a hand to answer the donut phone.
‘Twinford animal wranglers.’
‘Hey kid, I thought you might want to go talk to a friend of mine.’
‘Sure,’ said Ruby, ‘but is this really a good time for a social call? Aren’t we a little busy here?’
‘Why? What are you doing?’ asked Hitch.
‘Broadening my horizons,’ said Ruby, still flipping through her Garbage Girl comic.
‘Glad to hear it, but this isn’t really a social call. In fact, to be entirely frank with you, this friend of mine could never be accused of sociability. She’s more likely to tell you to get off her porch than shake your hand.’
‘So why do I want to put down my comic?’ asked Ruby.
‘Because this friend might be able to help you with your navigation problems,’ he replied.
‘How’s that?’
‘You’ll see – Connie Slowfoot has helped more than a few agents in her time,’ said Hitch, ‘but as far as liking her goes – don’t expect to.’
‘So what address does this unlikeable woman reside at?’ said Ruby.
Hitch might have sniggered at this, she couldn’t quite tell over the phone, but if he did then Ruby understood why when he dropped her at the end of a rough overgrown path and pointed her in the direction of a wood-patched cabin that clung to the mountainside.
As Ruby climbed, she saw outside it a hunched and bent-up figure, a strange, gnarled-looking creature puffing out smoke.
The old woman looked up long before Ruby would have expected her to spot her.
‘Who are you girl?’ Miss Slowfoot shouted.
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‘Hitch sent me,’ said Ruby.
‘I don’t recall asking who sent you. I asked you who you was.’
‘Ruby Redfort,’ said Ruby, ‘my name’s Ruby Redfort.’
The woman sat down then, right back in her rickety chair, and rocked a bit while she sucked on her pipe.
‘Hitch thought you could help me out,’ called Ruby. She was still walking towards the shack even though she wasn’t sure the old lady might tell her to get lost.
Connie Slowfoot nodded. ‘Help you find your way I suppose; you got no-good eyes.’
‘He told you?’ asked Ruby.
‘No,’ said Connie, ‘but I can tell.’ She laughed her old crone laugh and rocked some more. Her accent was thick and strong like a character from history; no one spoke like that now, not in Twinford at least. ‘I never heard your name before, but I can tell you blind as a bat in daylight without those glasses of yours.’
Jeepers! thought Ruby. The whole wild woman of the woods thing was kind of rankling.
‘So,’ said Ruby, ‘what’s your advice?’
The woman closed her eyes. ‘You gotta see with your nose girl, ears too; you gotta feel your way through these woods, use your homing instinct.’ She tapped her head and her hand disappeared into her wild, unruly hair. ‘I know where my hand is because I can feel it. I don’t need to see it.’
Ruby wasn’t going to argue with the logic of that. She would listen for a while and then get out of there: this Connie was clearly one crazy old buzzard.
‘You thinking I’m crazy girl, but you need to listen beyond your thoughts, you need to let your senses tell you what’s true and what ain’t. Don’t rely on those eyes of yours, they no good.’
Connie was right about that. Ruby’s eyes were not her strong point.
‘You got brains girl, you just gotta stop relying on them, use your gut like nature intended.’
‘How dya mean?’ asked Ruby, waking up to the idea that this woman had something to say after all. She might be crazy, but she was sharp as a shard of broken glass.