was gone, and no matter how much she buzzed and knocked, there was no answer and it didn’t seem like there ever would be.
She was out of ideas. Guess we might as well rejoin the party Bug.
As they walked through the front gate of the Redfort residence, a voice said, ‘And just what have you been up to, little girl?’
Ruby spun around and came face to face with Froghorn.
‘Why is it your business bozo?’
‘Babysitting duty again – Spectrum wants me to keep you out of trouble.’ He looked smug.
‘What? That’s all I need, some duh brain checking up on me.’
‘I can assure you I don’t want to be here – and I am not sure what crime I committed to end up on this detail.’
‘Maybe it was the suit,’ suggested Ruby.
Froghorn clenched his teeth. ‘I’ll be watching the back gate, little girl – you won’t find it so easy next time. Oh and don’t go breaking into any more hotel rooms with your little friend, inch-high private eye!’ He smiled his sour smile, evidently pleased with that one.
When everyone had gone and the house was quiet, Ruby tip-toed into the kitchen and sat staring at the toaster. She even put in some bread, but when it popped up there was no secret message – it was just toast.
Upstairs, she checked her personal answerphone in the vain hope that there might be a call from Hitch but the only message was from Red explaining that she had had a ‘small accident’ with Ruby’s violin but that it was ‘definitely fixable, although it was going to take a lot of glue’.
Ruby sat down on the beanbag. Sure, it was furnished but without any of her personal stuff, it didn’t feel right. Nothing about anything felt right. Life without Mrs Digby certainly didn’t feel right and she had a horrible feeling that things were only going to get a whole lot less right. But for now Ruby Redfort would do as Hitch had told her and “sit tight” – what choice did she have?
The next day passed without sight nor sound of the Redfort butler.
When Ruby asked her parents if they had heard from him, they simply said, ‘He sent us a telegram to say he had personal business but would be back for the museum party and after that he would be moving on.’
‘That’s it?’ said Ruby.
‘I hear you Rube, we miss him too,’ said her father. ‘He is so organised.’
‘I’ll say,’ said her mother. ‘Never forgets anything.’
‘Banana milk,’ said Ruby.
‘What?’ said her father.
‘Banana milk, he forgot to order the banana milk.’
‘Well, let’s hope the next guy is twice as good, huh, honey?’ said Brant.
‘I’ll be happy if he is half as handsome,’ laughed her mother, stupidly.
But Ruby wasn’t even listening, she was longing for someone else to come home.
Mrs Digby would never forget banana milk.
Mrs Digby, where are you?
Mrs Digby was sure she could hear something, a sort of scraping sound coming from behind the wall. . .
Rats, she thought.
Mrs Digby didn’t like rats. She especially didn’t like being alone with rats – the thieves, whoever they were, had left her in the warehouse with only the TV for company but at least they hadn’t bothered to tie her up. ‘Where’s she gonna go?’ the thuggish-looking man had said.
OK, so she might not be able to escape, but Mrs Digby wasn’t about to put up with any rats.
They might be one of God’s many creatures, but I’ll be darned if I’m going to share my dinner with them. She was fond of saying this whenever she saw a rat, whether it be up close and personal or on some TV show.
She listened harder and picked up an oriental lamp. You come through here Mr Rat and you are going to be mincemeat I’m telling you.
The scraping sound stopped.
Mrs Digby stood stock-still.
Was it listening?
Get a grip on yourself, old lady.
The advantage
THE DAY BEFORE THE MUSEUM PARTY, Ruby’s mother walked into the living room, threw her keys on the table and said, ‘My goodness am I ever tired! It’s been a long day at the gallery, and I had to come back from lunch early because my assistant was off sick.’
Ruby didn’t feel too sorry for her since she was aware that her mother usually took two hour lunch breaks.
‘Oh, I bought you these divine shoes!’ Sabina opened a shoebox and produced a pair of sparkly red clogs. ‘You can wear them to the museum party, aren’t they cute?’
Ruby looked at them. She wasn’t so sure. ‘I guess,’ she said.
‘Well, try them on.’
Ruby knew she would get no peace until she did, so she slipped them onto her feet – they were surprisingly comfortable and sort of cool in an uncool way.
‘The soles are real wood,’ said her mother. ‘Adorable! Do you love them?’
‘Love ’em,’ said Ruby, who was hoping to get back to the TV show she was watching.
But her mother wasn’t finished. ‘I’m late home because just as I was leaving work, this woman came into the gallery, oh my was she pretty – tall, elegant, nicely dressed – and she was chatting to me about the new paintings we are showing; she really liked them too.’
‘Oh yeah?’ said Ruby.
‘Did she ever! I think she really might buy one – two even,’ sighed Sabina happily.
‘Oh that’s nice,’ said Ruby. Why did her mother always have to strike up a conversation when she was in the middle of one of her favourite shows? It was the new season of Crazy Cops – she had been looking forward to it for a long time.
Drat!
‘We got on terribly well, she was charming. She was admiring my suit and she said, “You should get a powder blue one because it would look great with your colouring,” and I said, “It’s funny you should say that because I have a beautiful powder blue Oscar Birdet suit,” and she said, “Oh do you, I love that designer”.’
‘That’s
