The House of Puzzles

by Richard Newsome

  Felicity bit into a strawberry and looked back towards the kitchen. ‘She was only a few behind me in the queue. She can’t be far away.’

  Gerald spotted her across the hall in her St Hilda’s maroon and navy tracksuit with her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. She was talking to a boy who had his back to them. Then Gerald realised who it was.

  ‘Why is Ruby talking to Alex Baranov?’ Gerald asked.

  And more importantly, Gerald thought, why is she smiling?

  Felicity shifted along the bench to make space for Ruby as she joined them. ‘Good morning everybody,’ Ruby said, cradling a bowl of honey-drizzled porridge in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. ‘It’s so beautiful outside. All that snow last night—’

  ‘What did Baranov want?’ Gerald asked, cutting her off mid-sentence.

  Ruby looked at Gerald with surprise. ‘And good morning to you too, Ruby,’ she said in her best teacher’s voice.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘I said, ‘good morning’. It is polite to respond in kind.’

  Gerald looked at her blankly. His excitement of a few moments before had evaporated. ‘Uh, good morning,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Better,’ Ruby said. ‘As for Alex—’

  ‘Oh, so you’re best friends with him now, are you?’

  Ruby took a long sip of tea then fixed Gerald with a penetrating stare. ‘Maybe not best friends,’ she said. ‘But friendly, anyway.’

  ‘What’s happened? Last night you sounded like you wanted to break his legs,’ Gerald said. ‘And that went double for his buddies, Millicent and Gretchen.’

  Ruby dipped a spoon into her porridge and blew across the bowl. ‘Oh, don’t worry about Millie and Bletchen,’ she said. ‘I’m still gunning for them. That stupid Hello Kitty creature and her friend can sleep uneasy knowing that.’

  ‘What about Baranov?’ Gerald said. ‘He was well out of order with what he said about Professor McElderry. And about you. How come you’re all smiley-smiley with him today?’

  Ruby put down her spoon. ‘Because Alex had the decency to come up to me this morning and apologise for his behaviour last night,’ she said. ‘He was sorry that he’d got off on the wrong foot with me and wanted to start over. I may have misjudged him.’

  Gerald choked on his bacon. ‘Misjudge Alex Baranov! You can misjudge a basketball shot or a golf swing, or even Sam’s ability to think about anything other than food, but you can not misjudge people like Alex Baranov. It is just not possible. What you see is what you get and what you get is one hundred per cent jerk.’

  ‘And you made up your mind on that from one interaction last night?’ Ruby said.

  Gerald simmered. ‘I’ve met his type before.’

  Felicity leaned over and bopped Gerald on the point of his nose with her finger. ‘I do believe you are jealous,’ she said.

  The fork slipped from Gerald’s fingers and clattered to the tabletop. ‘Jealous?’ he said, with a little too much force. ‘Me? That’s ridiculous.’

  Felicity flicked a long plait over her shoulder and arched an eyebrow at Gerald. ‘Oh, come off it,’ she said. ‘You don’t seriously think we’ve forgotten about the Christmas Eve snog you two had at the chalet in California? If those bandits hadn’t attacked we would have had to throw a bucket of water over you.’

  This time it was Ruby’s turn to glow red and sputter out a protest. ‘Snogging? Gerald? Who saw what now?’

  Felicity returned to her breakfast. ‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing going on here.’

  Gerald struggled to think of something to say. He panicked, turned to Ruby and blurted out, ‘There once was a girl named Valentine…’

  Ruby looked at him as if he had gone insane. ‘What are you going on about?’

  Gerald opened his mouth but what came out sounded like a gagging goldfish. He was saved by Kobe Abraham, who wandered past and dropped an envelope onto the table in front of Gerald, narrowly missing the lake of tomato sauce on his plate.

  ‘Mail call,’ Kobe said. ‘Someone thinks you’re worth writing to.’

  Ruby nodded at the copy of the Economist that Kobe had tucked under his arm. ‘Keeping up with world events, Kobe?’

  Kobe flashed her a smile. ‘You’re either in the loop or in the soup,’ he said with a finger to the side of his nose.

  ‘I thought Rice Crispies said there was no contact with the outside world while we’re at camp,’ Sam said.

  Kobe peeled the wrapper from his magazine. ‘It also pays to have sources in the right places,’ he said. ‘And it looks like Gerald is one who does.’ He brandished another envelope. ‘And he’s not the only one, as it happens.’

  Ruby tilted her head to the side. ‘Who else?’

  Kobe tapped his nose again. ‘Ah, that would be telling, toots. Cheerio.’ He turned and wandered deeper into the dining hall.

  Ruby and Felicity looked at each other. ‘Toots!’ they chorused, and fell into giggles. ‘He’s a strange one,’ Ruby said.

  Sam grunted. ‘You think he’s strange, you should meet nearly everyone else at St Custard’s. The place is overflowing with strange.’

  ‘Better than overflowing with custard,’ Ruby said, watching Kobe as he weaved among the grid of tables.

  ‘Who’s Rice Crispies?’ Felicity said.

  Gerald wedged a mushroom into his cheek. ‘That’s Dr Crispin’s nickname,’ he said. ‘Don’t let him hear you using it though.’

  ‘Well, there’s an interesting thing,’ Ruby said, still gazing across the hall.

  ‘What’s that?’ Felicity asked.

  ‘Kobe just delivered the other letter.’

  ‘And?’

  Ruby turned back to the three others at the table. ‘To Alex Baranov.’

  Gerald spat out a moist pffft. ‘Probably the latest issue of Rich and Good Looking magazine.’

  Felicity patted Gerald on the arm. ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure Ruby will be able to resist his charms.’

  ‘Felicity!’ Ruby glared at her friend.

  ‘What?’ Felicity said. She looked across to Alex Baranov’s table. ‘He is quite cute.’

  ‘Oh for goodness sake,’ Ruby said, then she turned to Gerald. ‘What’s so vitally important that you get a letter in the mail?’

  Gerald studied the business-sized envelope. It was addressed to his house in Chelsea in London and had been forwarded to St Cuthbert’s. He recognised his mother’s handwriting on the front: URGENT. Must be sent to school camp in Scotland OR ELSE!

  The envelope was made with a thick linen paper with an embossed B on the flap. Gerald ran a finger under the seal.

  ‘Oh, it’s from the Billionaires’ Club,’ he said, holding up a single sheet of paper. He looked up to be met by three blank stares. ‘You remember,’ he said. ‘The club that Jasper Mantle and Tycho Brahe wanted me to join.’

  ‘You mean the butterfly collector and the certifiable lunatic who tried to slice the still-beating heart from my chest for a chemistry experiment?’ Ruby said. ‘Yes, I vaguely remember them.’

 
Felicity took a sip of tea. ‘It’s in New York, isn’t it?’

  Gerald scanned the letter. ‘It says that the initiation for membership to the Billionaires’ Club will be held during the mid-term break.’

  ‘How are you going to manage that?’ Ruby asked. ‘We’re supposed to spend the break here.’

  Gerald’s eyes lit up. ‘It says that Mr Mantle has arranged with Dr Crispin for me to take time off for a long weekend in New York City!’

  He looked up to Sam’s disbelieving face. ‘You get to spend a long weekend in some six star hotel in New York—with room service and a comfy bed—while we’re stuck here freezing our buns off in some godforsaken place that if it’s not the end of the world you can at least see if from here?’

  Gerald leaned over, plucked a rasher of bacon from Sam’s plate and took a bite. ‘There’s got to be some benefits to being a billionaire,’ he said.

  Chapter 4

  The Captain Oates Outdoor Education Centre bristled with anticipation as two hundred students gathered in the reception hall. Burning logs crackled in the fire pit, providing some relief from the bitter cold that clawed at the windows like an impatient house cat demanding to be let in.

  Dr Crispin stood with his back to the flames and held his hands up for silence. ‘Tomorrow you will embark on the first stage of the Triple Crown.’ He stared at the assembled faces like a lion scanning the savannah for lunch. ‘I have no doubt that by the end of the day there will be tears and not a little heartbreak. That is how it should be. These three tasks are about pushing yourselves to the limit. I like to think of them in alignment with my life philosophy: If it’s not hurting, it’s not working.’

  Sitting with his back against a wall, Sam whispered to Gerald, ‘Is this supposed to inspire us?’

  Gerald shook his head and stared back at the St Cuthbert’s headmaster as he droned on about personal mission statements and key performance indicators. He gave the distinct impression of a general saying farewell to his troops as they prepared for battle, before he popped back to headquarters for a snifter of brandy and a three-course meal.

  Dr Crispin swivelled his head towards Sam and Gerald. His nose twitched, as if picking up a scent. ‘I expect at least a third of you to fail,’ he said in a tone redolent of dawn runs and ice baths. ‘The remaining two tasks will sort the rest of you out.’

  If there had been any enthusiasm left in the room at that point it was sucked up the chimney with the smoke.

  Gerald looked over to Ruby and Felicity sitting with a group of St Hilda’s girls. They all seemed appalled at what they had just heard. Ruby glanced up and caught Gerald’s eye. Her expression said, ‘Is this guy for real?’

  Gerald raised his eyebrows, as if to say, ‘Sadly, yes.’

  The headmaster snapped his fingers like a rifle shot, and looked to where Mr Beare was sitting in a chair. ‘If you please, Mr Beare.’

  The maths teacher lifted himself up and crossed to the centre of the room. He ran a hand over his chins and smiled at the upturned faces before him. He pulled a large envelope from his jacket and held it above his head.

  ‘I have here the instructions for the first leg of the Triple Crown.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Shall I read them?’

  Enthusiasm bubbled back into the room. ‘Yes!’

  Mr Beare made a dramatic event of ripping open the envelope and removing a sheet of paper. ‘In a moment you will sort yourselves into teams of four: two members from St Cuthbert’s and two from St Hilda’s. These will be your teams for all the Triple Crown challenges, so choose wisely.’

  A buzz spread around the students. Gerald and Sam turned and pointed at each other.

  ‘Team?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Team,’ Gerald replied.

  Gerald looked up to where Felicity and Ruby were sitting and was surprised to see Alex Baranov deep in conversation with Ruby.

  Gerald did not have a good feeling about this.

  Mr Beare called for quiet. ‘You will have time to assemble your teams shortly. First, let us find out about tomorrow morning’s task.’

  A hush descended on the hall.

  Mr Beare unfolded the sheet of paper and read. ‘Starting at 8am, groups will depart at five-minute intervals on an overnight hike. Each team will be given a map, a compass and coordinates for a checkpoint. At the checkpoint you will find an ink stamp that you must apply to your map to prove that you made it there. You will camp overnight and hike back in the morning. As the night descends quite early this far north, some of the teams may have to camp overnight before arriving at the checkpoint.’

  Sam and Gerald looked at each other. ‘Seems simple enough,’ Sam said.

  ‘There is one complication,’ Mr Beare said, raising his voice to be heard over the excited rumble that filled the hall. The noise died down, and heads turned his way. ‘The maps you will be given are not entirely accurate. All of the compasses have been adjusted to be at least five degrees off, and the checkpoint is twenty miles away.’

  Gerald and Sam looked at each other again. ‘Twenty miles, a dodgy map and a next-to-useless compass counts as one complication, does it?’ Sam said. ‘Is he having a joke?’

  Mr Beare raised his hands for calm. ‘The more mathematically minded students will have already calculated that a five degree discrepancy over a twenty mile hike will have you about two miles adrift of your target for the checkpoint. So we have included in your kitbags, together with food and a four-man tent, a series of clues to help you. Now do not forget to stamp your map, because you will need the checkpoint symbol for the second challenge of the Triple Crown.’

  Mr Beare checked his watch. ‘Right, you have ten minutes to form your teams. Anyone not in a team of four by then will be disqualified. Go!’

  Two hundred boys and girls leapt to their feet and scrambled in all directions. It was as if someone had thrown a cat into a chicken coop. Sam grabbed Gerald by the elbow and dragged him towards where Ruby and Felicity had been sitting.

  ‘Ow!’ Gerald protested. ‘Easy on the arm pulling.’

  In the mad jostling of bodies Gerald lost sight of Ruby. He finally spotted Felicity, who was up on her tiptoes and waving her arms above her head at them. Gerald and Sam pushed past a cluster of girls who were negotiating with Kobe and Charlie about pack-carrying duties.

  ‘Where’s Ruby?’ Sam asked, searching for her face among the crowd. ‘I thought she was with you.’

  ‘She was,’ Felicity said. ‘But she got waylaid.’

  ‘Waylaid?’ Gerald said. ‘By what?’

  Felicity nodded towards a group of bodies. ‘Not by what,’ she said. ‘By whom.’

  Gerald looked to where Felicity had gestured and saw Ruby talking with Alex Baranov. He pressed his lips together and pushed his way towards them.

  ‘Ruby?’ Gerald said, making a point of shouldering his way between her and Alex. ‘What’s going on?’

  Ruby blinked up at him and her voice caught in her throat. ‘Oh, Alex was just asking me something,’ she said, somehow avoiding looking Gerald in the eye.

  ‘Asking you what?’ Gerald said.

  Alex Baranov fixed Gerald with an electric stare. ‘I�
��ve asked Ruby to join my team for the Triple Crown, Wilkins. I was just telling her that my friend Owen is an orienteering champion. He can read a map and compass better than anyone I know. This first challenge will be a doddle for my team.’

  Gerald’s mouth fell open. ‘Join your team? You’re too late. Ruby’s on my team.’

  Ruby pulled her shoulders back and jutted out her chin. ‘I don’t believe I’ve agreed to be on anyone’s team yet,’ she said. ‘Alex had the good manners to actually ask me.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Gerald said. ‘Obviously you’re on my team.’

  Ruby straightened even further. ‘You’ve made that decision for me, have you?’

  Gerald realised he might have gone a step too far. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I would never do that.’

  ‘Because you know how much that would annoy me, don’t you,’ Ruby said, narrowing her eyes.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Gerald said, backpedalling as fast as he could manage. ‘I never meant to annoy you.’

  Mr Beare’s voice cut through the hubbub in the hall, ‘Two minutes, everyone!’

  A calculating smile settled on Ruby’s lips. She looked first to Alex, then to Gerald.

  ‘If I was to join your team,’ she said, ‘what would the team motto be?’

  ‘Our what?’ Gerald said.

  ‘Our motto. Our slogan,’ Ruby said. ‘What would be the guiding principle that defined our team?’

  Alex puffed out his chest. ‘Simple,’ he said. ‘It would be the same as the Baranov family crest: Victoria Super Omnia: Victory above All.’

  Ruby considered this for a second. ‘Strong,’ she said. ‘I like it.’ She turned to Gerald. ‘What do you have for me?’