by Lauren Child
Mrs Digby was getting unusually misty-eyed at this memory of a bygone time; she even went downstairs and took a black and white photograph out of her album to show Ruby. It was of the young Mrs Digby (before she became Mrs Digby) dressed up in a maid’s uniform along with a whole lot of other young women. Behind them and around them and at their feet were a variety of exotic animals. The maids were all laughing, seemingly unaware of the possible danger they might be in.
Ruby handed it back to the housekeeper who propped it up on the shelf behind her and went back to her chopping.
‘So he’s dead now?’ said Ruby.
‘Dead?’ said Mrs Digby. ‘I’m sure I wouldn’t know, but dead or alive I would doubt he’s smiling.’ She tutted. ‘Strangest man I ever met and I doubt if he ever got less so.’
Ruby said goodbye to Mrs Digby and set off as if she was heading to school, though she had no intention of making it there. Instead she took the bus to the centre of town – she needed to spend some time checking out a few things and the City Library was a good place to start.
It was pleasantly cool inside and that, combined with the dimly lit interior, made it feel like a sanctuary, a long way from the sweat and hustle of the city outside.
She chose a spot at the long library table and slung her satchel over one of the green leather upholstered chairs.
She looked at the section containing the newspaper archive.
If the reclusive Flemming Fengrove was still alive, then he would be a very old man by now, but many years ago he had been one of the most celebrated and sought-after individuals on the celebrity circuit. For a small window of time he had been famous for throwing lavish parties at his home dubbed the Mountain Chateau, and for organising ambitious public events and spectacles, but these were all but Forgotten now.
The public library remembered him in black and white, printed in the pages of heavy bound books; photographs of actors, starlets, politicians and renowned public faces. Old Twinfordites thought of him from time to time, but mostly he was long Forgotten, dead and buried in the local history books.
But Ruby wondered:
Is this man actually dead and buried?
She looked at the public records, the answer came back:
No.
Is there a record of the endangered animals Fengrove had been required to return to the state zoo?
Answer: yes.
Is there a record of the animals Fengrove had gone on to sell? Answer: yes.
Does either list mention the Sumatran tigers, pygmy hippos, the Siamese crocodile and the Lapis bowerbird? Answer: no.
Was there ever a list of every animal Flemming Fengrove had actually owned? Answer: not here.
Even if there was there was no one who could verify the truth of it.
Could it be that Flemming Fengrove, unbeknownst to the authorities, kept some of the animals secretly on his estate? Possibly bred them even?
Answer: possibly.
What if some of the animals were still up at Mountain Chateau? And what if someone had known about Fengrove’s secret and had decided to release the animals, knowing that the old man could hardly get the police involved without incriminating himself? Perhaps this person or persons had planned to rescue the creatures and relocate them, but something had gone wrong and they had escaped.
It was a theory anyway.
It seemed like the only way to know the truth was to go up there and Ruby thought she might like a bit of company; it was a long journey after all and it might get boring without someone to chat to. The problem was that Clancy was right now taking his French test.
So just how was she going to get in touch with him?
Chapter 39.
Driving Miss Lazy
CLANCY WAS SITTING IN A HOT CLASSROOM, trying to remember the French word for elephant. He had opted to write an essay on the circus, having rejected the essay on vacations (because he didn’t know the French word for vacation) and the essay on hobbies because at that moment he couldn’t think of any actual hobbies that he had.
Now he found himself a good way through the circus essay and he realised that not only was he having trouble bringing to mind the word elephant, he also was having a problem with the word lion, clown and acrobat. It was hard to write an essay on the circus when you didn’t know the word for elephant, lion, trapeze and acrobat. He had wisely decided that he should just get going, leave blanks and come back to them later – he was bound to remember before the time was up.
Forty-five minutes later, he looked back at his essay to see rather a lot of blanks; he needed to fill them with something, but he wasn’t sure what. He had about fifteen minutes to go when there was a knock on the door. Mrs Bexenheath stuck her head round and said, ‘Clancy Crew, your mother called and she requires you to return home immediately. She’s sent a cab for you, it’s out front.’
‘My mother?’ said Clancy.
‘That’s what I said,’ said Mrs Bexenheath. ‘It behoves me to inform you that you will not be allowed to retake this exam. Madame Loup expressed herself quite forcefully on this point.’
‘Are you sure it was my mother?’
‘Of course I’m sure. I’ve spoken to your mother often enough to know her voice when I hear it.’
‘But my mother is in. . . oh jeez.’ Ruby Redfort, thought Clancy. ‘If it’s all right with you Mrs Bexenheath, I’ll just finish my test.’
‘No, it is not all right with me,’ said Mrs Bexenheath. ‘I don’t want to be on the wrong end of a telephone call from an angry mother.’
Reluctantly, Clancy gathered up his things and Mrs Bexenheath stood by the door, hands on hips. As he passed by, he handed her his unfinished test – another failure, another run-in with his father, but no more second chances; he would be held down a year for sure. He would be the laughing stock of the school. Boy, would Vapona Bugwart and Gemma Melamare have a field day. He was beginning to think Mr Piper the philosophy teacher was right: man was not born good, he was just out for himself, and when he got the chance he would laugh at those less fortunate, those unlucky ones who kept on flunking French.
As Clancy made his way out into the bright sunshine, he saw the cab.
The driver wound down the window. ‘You Clancy Crew?’
‘Yes. . .’ said Clancy cautiously.
‘OK, get in.’
Clancy climbed into the back seat and the driver started the engine. As he moved off into the traffic, he reached back and handed Clancy an envelope.
‘What’s this?’ asked Clancy.
‘How should I know?’ said the cab driver. ‘I’m just the guy driving the car.’
Clancy peeled open the envelope and read the message. It was printed neatly in code which translated as:
The cab is going to drop you home. Change into something that makes you look older. We’re going to pay an elderly man a visit so try to look respectable. If you have any questions, call me.
‘Oh brother,’ he muttered. Ruby Redfort is ruining my life.
Clancy snuck into the house the back way and went up to his room. He picked up the phone and dialled.
‘Why are you calling?’ said Ruby.
‘I’m calling because you told me to call if I had any questions and I do have questions, a lot actually.’
‘Have you changed into something older-looking?’ she asked.
‘No.’
‘Well, get on with it buster, we’ve got to be somewhere.’
‘Where?’
‘I’ll tell you when we get there.’
‘Tell me now Ruby.’
‘Can’t, this is an unsecured line.’
‘Are we about to do something illegal?’
‘No.’
‘Dangerous?’
‘Probably not.’
‘What?’
‘OK, not. Now can I please put the phone down? I gotta hire a car.’
‘But I can’t drive,’ said Clancy, ‘and the last time I looked, neither could you.’
‘I’l
l hire a car and a driver,’ said Ruby. ‘My mom uses this car service when Hitch is out of town and she can’t be bothered to drive. They’re called Driving Miss Lazy and they specialise in longish distance rides.’
‘You have to be kidding me.’
‘I am. They’re called We Drive You Round the Bend.’
‘That can’t be true.’
‘There’s only one way for you to find out. Be there or you never will.’
‘I’m just busting to know,’ said Clancy in a sarcastic tone. ‘By the way, won’t they think it’s a little unusual if a thirteen-year-old kid phones up and books a car to take them outta town?’ It was a reasonable question.
‘I doubt it. Mom says they spend their whole time driving rich kids around. They’re used to being booked by teenagers. Anyway, I can sound older than I look,’ said Ruby, ‘and I can look older than I look.’
‘OK, so you hire this car with a driver, what then? We go meet this guy – isn’t he gonna think something weird’s going on?’
‘It’ll be fine,’ said Ruby, ‘trust me.’
‘I always hate when you say that because it always means you’re about to get me into some big heap of trouble which you hope you can just bluff your way out of.’
‘I did your detention essay, didn’t I?’ said Ruby. ‘Got you out of that trouble?’
‘It was you that got me into it. Besides, Mrs Drisco is trouble I can handle, my dad is trouble I can handle; an elderly man calling the cops about harassment is not trouble I can handle.’
Two minutes later and Clancy had agreed.
When Clancy met Ruby at the rendezvous, she looked quite different from the Ruby Redfort he knew. She was all dolled up (as Mrs Digby would say) and looked very strange in a wide-brimmed hat, sunglasses, rouge, hoop earrings and high-heeled boots, and carrying a large purse; she did look older though.
Clancy had done less well with his costume and merely appeared odd.
Ruby looked Clancy up and down.
‘That the best you could do? I’m gonna have to pretend you’re my weird nephew, Dusty, from the mountains.’
‘What! How is it my fault? I was sitting my French test a half-hour ago and now I have to get into some insane disguise so I can be most probably murdered by an insane elderly man.’
‘Just get in the car Dusty,’ ordered Ruby.
Clancy got in the car. The driver wasn’t even a little bit interested in them, but still a lot of what they said was said in code.
‘So why are we going to see this old guy?’ asked Clancy.
‘I’m not sure exactly, it’s just a theory’ said Ruby. ‘But a long time ago he used to keep all these exotic animals up on his estate. People said he sold them off years back, but I’m not so sure. I mean where else would all of these strange animals have come from?’
‘Oh,’ said Clancy, ‘so we’re gonna see some man about his escaped crocodile, that about it?’
‘I guess you could put it that way,’ said Ruby.
‘Right,’ sighed Clancy. ‘There’s no chance my dad’s gonna get me that bike now.’
‘Why not?’ said Ruby.
‘Because now I’m gonna flunk my French. I doubt very much that he’s gonna buy me a bike as a reward for trying.’
‘Clance, he was never gonna buy you a bike as a reward, get real – he hardly ever remembers your birthday. What did he give you last time? Oh yeah, an alarm clock.’
‘That was one awful gift,’ said Clancy, remembering the event like it had just happened.
‘Anyway, what makes you think you’ll flunk French?’ said Ruby.
‘Perhaps the fact that I didn’t have time to finish the test,’ said Clancy, ‘because my “mom” pulled me outta school.’ He sat back in the seat, dejected. ‘Ah, who am I kidding? I was never going to pass. I couldn’t remember the word for elephant.’
‘Éléphant,’ said Ruby.
‘Yes,’ said Clancy.
‘No, elephant is éléphant,’ said Ruby.
‘Really?’ said Clancy.
‘Yeah,’ said Ruby.
‘Exactly the same as in English?’
‘Basically, yeah, except for there’s accents on the Es.’
‘Well, I couldn’t remember the word for lion either.’
‘Lion,’ said Ruby. ‘Or cage,’ said Clancy.
‘Cage,’ said Ruby.
‘Oh brother,’ said Clancy. ‘Don’t tell me trapeze is. . .’
‘Trapèze,’ said Ruby.
Chapter 40.
Selling insurance
THE DRIVER HAD NO IDEA WHERE THE FLEMMING FENGROVE RESIDENCE WAS; he wasn’t nearly old enough to have heard of the eccentric millionaire, but luckily Ruby had listened carefully to Mrs Digby’s description.
They had travelled a fair way out of town, several miles along the canyon road, before reaching the sharp fork to the left and on up to Mountain Chateau; Wolf Paw Mountain looming dark above it.
The long winding drive which led up to the house was shaded by trees, the branches so long unclipped that they formed a living cage around the snaking road. The mansion that appeared at the end of it gave the impression of having seen one too many winters, its stonework crumbling, its windows dark and sad like they had lost their spirit.
‘I’m going to go discuss insurance with Mr Fengrove.’ Ruby rummaged in her handbag. ‘Too bad I forgot to wear my perfume. Darn it.’
‘Why?’ said Clancy. ‘You got a body odour problem?’
‘Course not buster, it’s just perfume makes you seem older, more sophisticated.’
‘Makes you smell like a rose bush,’ said Clancy.
‘Anyway,’ said Ruby, ‘I’ll go knock on old Fengrove’s door while you jump on over that wall and see if he has any wild animals in the back garden.’
‘What!’ Clancy’s arms were flapping. ‘Are you crazy? Have you actually lost your mind for two minutes?’
‘Stop wasting time and get over that wall buster!’
‘Why do I have to climb the wall?’
‘Have you seen what you’re wearing?’ said Ruby. ‘You look like a total nutjob; you can’t knock on some guy’s door, he’s never gonna let you in.’
‘And I suppose you think you look totally normal?’ said Clancy.
‘More normal than you,’ argued Ruby.
‘I’m not climbing any wall,’ said Clancy, shaking his head. ‘Uh uh. No way, no day.’
‘I’d like to remind you that the meter is ticking, the car service charges by the minute and I only have fifty bucks.’
‘I don’t care,’ said Clancy. ‘I’ll walk back if I have to.’
‘All right,’ sighed Ruby, ‘have it your way. I’ll go check out the animals while you go pretend to sell Mr Fengrove insurance.’ She hitched up her skirt in preparation for climbing the wall. ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t call the cops.’
To Clancy’s mind this was not a good trade. He groaned.
‘OK, OK, I’ll go throw myself to the wild things, but if I die I hope you feel real bad about it.’
‘I promise I’ll never get over it,’ said Ruby.
The heavy oak door was answered by an elderly man in a frayed cardigan and sagging trousers, both of which looked like they had been purchased many years ago for a lot of money. Once these garments must have lent him dignity and status, but now they made him look wretched and vulnerable.
Ruby was worried that the old man might smell a rat when he saw a thirteen-year-old girl dressed up as an insurance saleswoman, but she needn’t have been concerned. Flemming Fengrove wasn’t exactly at the top of his game. He seemed confused and disorientated, a shadow of a man. It was hard to imagine that this broken person had been a key player back in the 1920s when Twinford was regarded as a party town and Flemming Fengrove had danced and whirled the city’s citizens into crazy abandon. Now he looked like a kid’s toy bear that had lost most of its stuffing.
Ruby had thought it was going to be difficult to get this reclusive man to talk, but
she was wrong. He seemed to want to talk. Perhaps now, after all these years of being alone, he needed to have someone hear him again.
Ruby introduced herself as Miss Grover, a junior insurance rep.
‘Not interested,’ said Fengrove.
‘But you might be interested if I gave you a quote; we have very favourable rates.’
‘I have no money to spend on such things,’ said the old man.
‘It’s a lovely house,’ said Ruby. ‘You have style sir, that’s for sure.’
The man mumbled a bit. ‘Well, I don’t know, maybe. I used to have.’
‘So you live in this place all by yourself sir?’ asked Ruby, looking around.
‘Not by myself,’ he replied. ‘I still have some of my companions.’
‘Companions?’ asked Ruby.
‘Animals,’ said Fengrove sadly.
‘Some you say?’
‘Most have gone,’ said Fengrove. ‘I lost the first of them back in the 1930s. I managed to hang onto a few, but the man I trusted to watch over them, he stole them from me.’ Fengrove looked like he might collapse and so Ruby led him to a chair and sat him down.
‘This man, he was the zookeeper?’ Ruby enquired.
Fengrove nodded.
‘Has he been with you a long time sir?’
‘Too long probably,’ replied Fengrove. ‘Ivan got greedy, wanted more and more from me. I told him I couldn’t afford to pay him a penny more, I have no money. Not a nickel.’
Ruby doubted this statement since, even if this reputed millionaire had no cash, the house was clearly stuffed with antiques and fine art. The large painting in the hall looked like it might be worth a lifetime of salaries and he certainly wasn’t spending money on the house upkeep.
‘So Ivan left with no warning? Just like that?’ said Ruby.
‘First he let the animals go and then he disappeared. I went to find him, but he wasn’t in his cabin; he just never returned.’
Ruby looked at him, so sad, so diminished. Everything he had worked for had gone; his talents wasted, he had wound up some embittered failure. With his dreams gone, it was as if he had completely lost his way. Ruby shuddered. How easy was it for success to become failure?
