by Lauren Child
MRS. ARTHUR: Cake is in no way essential and should not be present in any child’s diet.
RUBY: Cake is one of life’s great wonders and who would deny wonder to a child?
All the pupils with the exception of Denning Minkle, who had a sugar allergy, supported Ruby. However, Ruby was requested to turn her T-shirt inside out or risk a month of detention.
Ruby said good-bye to Clancy, who was being kept behind so he could retake his French vocab test. He was nervous; French made him feel queasy, and Madame Loup gave him the shivers.
“You’ll be fine, Clance,” said Ruby, as she slipped him an index card. “Copy this list onto your arm and you’ll have no problem.”
The piece of paper had all the test answers written in code — the code they had devised a couple of years ago and perfect for a situation like this. To the regular human on the street it just looked like gobbledygook.
Then it was time to catch the bus back to Cedarwood Drive.
Yes, everything was pretty normal. Things only began to get strange when Ruby arrived home.
She swung open the gate and saw that the front door to the house was standing open and a police car was parked in the drive. As she walked up the stairs to the kitchen, she could hear the voice of Sheriff Bridges.
Now what is he doing here?
It didn’t take Ruby long to find out. She stood there in the living room, openmouthed.
Everything had gone. Well, almost everything. The telephone was still plugged into its socket and was sitting on the floor. Apart from that the house was as empty as a house could be. Even the dust was gone. It was obvious to anyone, even someone who had never visited the Redforts before, that they had been robbed.
“Yes,” said her mother, guessing her daughter’s thoughts, “Every room is full of nothing.”
RUBY TURNED AND RAN UPSTAIRS, right to the top of the house. She went into her empty bedroom and set about pulling at the wobbly floorboards. As she lifted them up she was met by the yellow glow of her six hundred and twenty-one yellow notebooks.
Thank goodness, it seemed everything was in order. Next she checked the doorjamb and was reassured to see that, yes, the six hundred and twenty-second notebook was also safe. She checked her other eleven hiding places before breathing a huge sigh of relief.
As Ruby turned to leave the room, she caught sight of her donut phone tucked underneath the bookcase. It was the only remaining phone from her collection and the only remaining visible object in the room. She picked it up and dialed Clancy’s number. He wasn’t home yet, so she left a message. “Call me, OK?” Then she went back downstairs. As she walked into the kitchen she adopted an expression of quiet distress.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” said her mother kindly.
“Don’t worry, Ruby, we’re going to track this yo-yo down,” said the sheriff, patting her on the shoulder. “I’ll see myself out, Mrs. R.”
“Good-bye, Nat,” called Sabina.
Two minutes later the doorbell rang.
“Oh, Ruby honey, would you get that?” asked her mother. “It’s probably Nat, he’s forgotten his notepad.”
But when Ruby answered the door she was surprised to see a remarkably handsome, rather tall, formally dressed man. He was neither particularly young nor would he ever be considered in any way old — in fact it was impossible to really put any accurate age on him.
“You are inside out,” said the man, extending his hand.
“Huh?” said Ruby.
“Let me guess, the so-called authority figures didn’t like your silent demands?” he was pointing at her T-shirt, which was of course inside out, the let them eat cake slogan no longer visible.
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “Something like that . . .”
How did he know about the school cake protest? she wondered.
Who is this guy?
Her mother by now had made her way downstairs. “Can I help you?” she asked uncertainly.
“Hitch,” said the man, looking into the house. “I see you go in for the minimalist look.”
“Pardon me? Oh, yes, I see what you mean. We’ve been robbed,” stammered Sabina. “I’m afraid there’s nothing to photograph.”
“Well, luckily I didn’t bring my camera.”
“Why ever not?” Sabina said, shaking his hand. Ruby noticed the man wince as if the action had caused him a sudden flash of pain.
“Because I take terrible photographs — always getting my thumb in front of the lens.”
Sabina looked blank. “But aren’t you the photographer from Living Luxury magazine?”
“I’m a household manager — from Zen Home management. You called this morning?”
“Oh!” said Sabina brightly. “You’re the butler?”
“I prefer household manager, but butler if you insist.”
“But I only called the house-management agency a few hours ago, they said no one would be available for weeks, how did you . . .”
“I returned from London unexpectedly two hours ago. My previous employers, Lord and Lady Wellingford, suddenly decided to tour the palaces of India and no longer required my services.”
“But surely they will be back in a few weeks?”
“Not for three years,” he replied quickly.
“It takes three years to tour the palaces of India?” said Sabina.
“They are traveling by elephant.”
A likely story, thought Ruby. I’ll bet he got fired.
“So, do you want to see my references? I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.” He winked at Sabina and she giggled.
“I’ll bet I won’t!” said Sabina cheerily.
Oh, brother! thought Ruby.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Mr. Hitch.”
“Just Hitch — that’ll do fine.”
“Oh, of course, that’s a butler thing, isn’t it, calling yourself by your last name.”
“Well, in this instance it’s more of a me thing. It’s my only name — only my mother calls me anything else.”
“Oh, and what does she call you?” asked Sabina.
“Darling, usually.”
“Well, you can call me just Sabina — or darling — no, just kidding . . .”
Ruby looked at her mother. Something strange had happened. Why was she giggling like an idiot?
“Anyway, I don’t mind telling you, Hitch,” Sabina went on, “things have been none too pleasant around here lately, no siree Bob. First the airline totally lost our luggage, and now look — we have been cleaned out.”
Sabina babbled on excitedly about the tomato incident and Hitch listened. It was if she had fallen under some kind of spell.
What is this guy, some kind of hypnotist?
Sabina was interrupted by the ring of the telephone.
“At least we still have the telephone!” cried Sabina, delighted that one small possession had escaped the burglar’s grasp. “I expect that’ll be the airline! Get that would you, Ruby?”
Ruby walked over to the phone and picked up the receiver. “Chuck’s Cheesery, you want cheese, we aim to please.”
But for the third time there was absolutely no one on the end of the line. She hung up and was about to dial Clancy’s number when the phone rang again.
“Look, buster, if you ain’t gonna talk, why call?”
“I’m sorry?” said a low, gravelly voice.
“What’s with all the heavy breathing and hanging up? It is considered rude you know,” snapped Ruby.
“I have no idea what you are talking about — I am not in the habit of calling people with whom I have no intention of conversing,” replied the voice.
So who called me those other times? Ruby wondered.
“I am looking for Ruby Redfort,” said the voice.
“Well, you found her,” replied Ruby.
“Good. So now that I’ve found you, all you’ve got to do is find me.”
“Excuse me?” said Ruby. “What is this, a quiz?”
“Well,” the
voice said, “a little bird told me that you notice everything — but do you notice everything Ruby Red?”
“The name’s Ruby Redfort.” Ruby didn’t like her name to be messed with.
“As I was saying,” continued the voice, “I hear that you are quite the code cracker, that you are capable of noticing the smallest things, the tiny details and how they connect. I bet you can see when something is plumb square in the wrong place, while everyone else just walks on by. You can see that something ordinary might mean something extraordinary once it’s put in context. Am I right?”
“I can crack a code,” said Ruby struggling to sound more confident than she felt.
“Good,” said the voice, and the line went dead.
“So what’s the code, buster?” said Ruby to no one but herself. She slowly put down the receiver.
Now what?
Hitch meanwhile, true to his job description, had been managing the Redfort household. By the time Brant Redfort walked in the door Hitch had brought in some of the lawn furniture, conjured camp beds from nowhere, and ordered sushi for dinner. Sabina was leaning on the countertop and chatting as if she had known him a good deal longer than one hour and forty-two minutes. Though Ruby observed that the conversation was not exactly scintillating.
“So would you believe it, Hitch, I take my little Oscar Birdet jacket to the dry cleaners — you know, Grosvenors on Harling Street? And what do they say? ‘Sorry, Mrs. Redfort, but we won’t be able to fix this, it’s too delicate.’ Can you believe it? What kind of dry-cleaning service are they?”
“Well, it is an Oscar Birdet, so maybe they felt a little out of their depth.”
“You know Oscar Birdet?”
“Sure I do.”
“Aren’t his designs exquisite?”
“Divine. Look, leave it with me. I’ll take it to my dry cleaner tomorrow, he knows what he’s doing,” said Hitch. “And if he can’t fix it, he’ll send it to someone who can.”
“Boy, I can’t wait for Mrs. Digby to meet you.”
“Mrs. Digby?” he asked.
“Our housekeeper. We had a misunderstanding. I expect she’s still at her cousin Emily’s cooling off — she’s going to just love you.”
Ruby wasn’t so sure. Mrs. Digby ‘couldn’t abide fools,’ and as far as Ruby was concerned this guy struck her as a prize turkey.
He was busy unpacking something from one of his bags.
“Hey, how cute — you travel with your own toaster,” exclaimed Sabina.
“Well,” said Hitch, placing it on the countertop. “It’s a good one, and who doesn’t love toast?”
There it was again, the little flash of pain, vivid just for a second when he lifted his right arm.
“I can’t argue with you there,” Sabina said, nodding.
“That’s some butler,” said Ruby’s father, impressed.
Ruby made a face. Because he carries a little toaster every place he goes? Had the body snatchers broken in and removed her parents’ brains?
She went up to her room and pulled out her yellow notebook — she was thinking about what Hitch had said about his previous employers. Who are these people who can just up and tour India for several years on elephants? And why at such short notice? Ruby couldn’t help feeling this Hitch guy wasn’t telling the whole truth about the Wellingfords, if indeed the Wellingfords even existed. And what if they did?
He’d probably cast them adrift in the middle of the North Sea and stolen all their money. No, there was something about the timing of his arrival which made the hairs stand up on the back of Ruby’s neck. It reminded her of Mary Poppins — the way he had just arrived out of thin air.
Only thing was, Hitch was no Mary Poppins.
Ruby thought about RULE 29: JUST BECAUSE A LION SAYS IT’S A MOUSE DOESN’T MAKE IT A MOUSE.
All evening Ruby waited to hear again from the mystery caller — but the phone didn’t ring and that night Ruby lay on her makeshift bed running over the conversation again and again in her mind.
Why did the caller hang up? You want a person to crack a code — why not give them the code? Geez! There were some strange folks out there.
But then, when the hands of her watch reached 4:43 a.m., Ruby sat bolt upright.
Of course! How could she have been so dumb — the mystery caller had given her the code! The whole conversation was a code!
DESPITE THE UNPLEASANT PROSPECT OF having to wear yesterday’s socks, Ruby was in a good mood and eager to get up and dressed long before her school day began. She was surprised to see her morning drink (one-third grapefruit, one-third cranberry, one-third peach — with a straw) sitting waiting for her. How did that Hitch guy know what she drank for breakfast? What’s more, where did he get the straws from?
So mind reading is what they teach them in butler school.
The morning paper was lying on the countertop, and Ruby glanced at the headlines.
MAYOR WAGES WAR ON GARBAGE: “LITTERBUGS ARE TRASH” SAYS MAYOR ABRAHAMS.
GOOD AS GOLD: FIVE TONS OF GOLD BULLION TO BE DEPOSITED IN TWINFORD CITY BANK VAULTS.
HEAVEN SCENT: TWINFORD NATIONAL BLOSSOM DAY SET TO BE THE MOST SPECTACULAR SINCE RECORDS BEGAN.
Hitch had obviously been to some twenty-four-hour supermarket because the countertop was covered in a vast array of breakfast possibilities.
“That’s some butler,” muttered Ruby, as she set about pouring Choco Puffles into a paper bowl. Out of habit she rummaged in the pack to find the free gift: it was a brain-teaser puzzle consisting of five shapes which, when arranged correctly, would make a perfect square. Ruby did it in six-and-a-half seconds. She threw the paper bowl into the trash and stood listening for sounds of life. There was no sign of Hitch, and her parents weren’t up yet, so she gave Bug his breakfast and went out to patch her bike tire — but miraculously it was already fixed.
“Boy! That’s some butler,” muttered Ruby again.
“Thanks.”
Ruby looked up to see the amused face of Hitch. He looked kind of pleased with himself, which irritated her.
“So what’s wrong with your arm?” said Ruby.
“I’m sorry?”
“What’s wrong with your arm?”
“I’m surprised you noticed.”
And he was surprised too; he thought he had concealed his arm injury well.
“I notice things; I’m good at that,” she said.
“I guess you are,” he said.
“So what happened?”
“Just a touch of housemaid’s elbow. I need to lay off the dusting.”
“Oh yeah, housemaid’s elbow, that well-known complaint.”
Stuffing her notebook into her bag, Ruby whistled to Bug, got on her bike, and rode off toward the center of Twinford, her dog running alongside. All the way there she tried to remember exactly what the mystery caller had said.
“Do you notice everything, Ruby Red?”
“A little bird told me. . . that you are capable of noticing the smallest things, the tiny details . . . I bet you can see when something is plumb square in the wrong place, while everyone else just walks on by.”
Bug had no trouble keeping up with her, and in no time they had reached Chatter-Bird Square. She was pretty sure she was right about Chatter-Bird Square. There wasn’t a Plum Square in Twinford, at least not one that Ruby knew about, and in any case Chatter-Bird fitted with the clue “a little bird told me.” She looked around her. There was nothing obvious to be noticed — but then that was the point wasn’t it?
“The smallest things . . .”
Look for something tiny, Ruby. That could take all day. The square, in fact a park, was big and would soon be teeming with people on their way to work.
“People walking on by . . .”
Bug had wandered off. He was busy going from tree to tree sniffing and doing what dogs do. Ruby watched him sniffing along the ground, making his way over to the tree in the middle where the footpaths met. He had spotted a brown paper bag on the
ground under the tree and was busy trying to get whatever was inside it out.
“Geez, Bug, do you have to eat everything? You just had breakfast a half hour ago.”
Ruby went over and picked up the bag, and out fell three squishy plums.
“Kinda weird to find plums at this time of year,” thought Ruby. And then she looked up at the tree and down at the fruit and she remembered what the voice had said. This was a plum tree and it was in the middle of the square.
“Plum in the middle of the square . . .”
“Where . . . everyone just walks on by . . .”
She walked right up to the tree and then walked around the trunk and then she saw it, something red.
“Do you notice everything ruby red?”
The voice had not been saying her name, it had been telling her to look for something red. The something red was a price sticker — it had Joe’s Supermart printed across the top and a price, $15:49, printed in the middle.
Is this the clue or is this just a price sticker?
She looked at it some more.
If it’s a clue then I guess I’m meant to go to Joe’s Supermart — but fifteen dollars and forty-nine cents? I’m meant to go in there and find something for fifteen dollars and forty-nine cents? I bet there’s nothing in Joe’s Supermart for fifteen dollars and forty-nine cents. No one who had fifteen dollars and forty-nine cents would shop there.
The dog looked at her stupidly — he didn’t know what was going on but he wouldn’t mind doing something else. Ruby was taking no notice though — she was just staring at the little sticker. After a couple of minutes of silent staring she got back on her bike and headed off toward school.
When she got to the crossroads in the middle of Bird Street she called over her shoulder, “OK, Bug, time to go home.” The dog looked at her, disappointed, but he knew what to do and he took a left and Ruby cycled on up the hill. She would be early for once.
As soon as she arrived at Twinford Junior High she went to look for Clancy. He was there already of course — overly punctual was his style.
