I can ever thank you!’ She sounded beyond grateful. ‘That would just about save my life … What’s that? No, I hadn’t heard … Today you say?’
Ruby froze, waiting for the next words. Was someone about to tell her mother about the dumpster incident?
‘Sure thing, yes, I’m dying to go to the Melrose Dorff sale but it will have to be tomorrow, I have a party tonight … Meet you at the perfume counter, sounds perfect, tomorrow it is. I’ll see you in town, bye, bye, bye.’
Marjorie Humbert! thought Ruby. Has to be. She recognised the sign off: ‘bye, bye, bye’ was what her mother and Marjorie always ended their conversations with.
She exhaled; she was getting paranoid, seeing trouble where there was none. Nothing serious had happened. Her mom no doubt was worrying about her outfit for the Explorer Awards and Marjorie was lending her a pair of shoes or earrings, something her mother had mislaid.
As it happened, Ruby was on the money.
‘Hey Mom, how’s it going?’ she said as she walked into the living room.
‘A whole lot better since two minutes ago. Marjorie has saved my life!’
‘Literally?’ asked Ruby.
‘Sort of literally but not exactly,’ said Sabina.
‘How did she manage that over the phone?’
‘By lending me her ruby-eyed snake earrings. Don’t tell your father,’ said her mother, adopting a conspiratorial whisper. ‘He’ll never spot the difference, even though Marjorie’s are cobras and mine are sea serpents, but he’d be so mad if he knew I’d lost them. You see, I clean forgot to put them on the insurance.’
‘When did you last have them?’ asked Ruby.
‘During my stay in New York City.’
‘So they could be at Grandma’s place?’
‘She’s looked and looked but they haven’t shown up,’ sighed Sabina, ‘not on the night stand, not in the bathroom or anywhere obvious.’
‘So I take it Dad’s not home?’ said Ruby.
‘Not yet honey. He was called in for an emergency meeting about the Explorer Awards. The caterers stepped out at the last minute – the chef apparently has a considerable fear of snakes. Brant offered to find a replacement … He is late though,’ she said, looking at her watch. ‘I hope everything’s OK. I have a bad feeling about this whole function.’
It was most unlike Sabina to have a bad feeling about anything – losing her jewellery had clearly rattled her.
Ruby sank down on the sofa opposite her mother.
‘You’re sitting on the menu,’ said Sabina.
‘What?’
‘The menu,’ said Sabina. ‘You happen to be sitting on it.’
‘Oh.’ Ruby pulled the card from under her. ‘So is this what they’re serving on the night?’
‘It was going to be,’ said Sabina, ‘but who knows now, it might just be crackers.’
Ruby began reading from the card. ‘Looks fancy. Caviar, oysters …’
SABINA: ‘I do love oysters, but I feel very uncomfortable eating them now it turns out they have a brain.’
RUBY: ‘I think you are getting mixed up here. They don’t have brains, they are brain food, i.e. meant to be food for the brain.’
SABINA: ‘Whose brain?’
RUBY: ‘Your brain – anyone’s brain.’
SABINA: ‘You sure?’
RUBY: ‘Yes. By the way, you eat plenty of other things with brains.’
SABINA: ‘I know, but I’ve been eating oysters all this time and thinking they don’t have brains.’
RUBY: ‘Well, you can relax ’cause they don’t.’
SABINA: ‘You’re sure about this?’
RUBY: ‘Where do you think they would keep them?’
SABINA: ‘In their shells, of course.’
RUBY: ‘Where in the “body”? I mean, you’ve shucked enough oysters to know.’
Her mother mulled this for half a minute.
SABINA: ‘Now I come to think of it, no, I have never noticed an oyster with even a face.’
RUBY: ‘There you go.’
SABINA: ‘What gets me is how do they think?’
RUBY: ‘They don’t need to think. They’re bivalves, they are pretty much gills and a mouth. They catch plankton in their mucus and—’
SABINA: ‘OK, mucus does it – that’s it for me and oysters.’
Ruby was saved from any more oyster talk by the sound of a key in the front door.
‘That’ll be your father, don’t blab about the earrings,’ hissed her mother.
‘When do I ever blab?’ said Ruby.
‘Brant?’ called Sabina.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ he called back.
‘We’ll be late to the Feldmans’ party,’ said Sabina.
‘Sorry honey, I got held up, but guess who I have in tow?’
‘Hola, Mrs Redfort.’
‘Consuela?’ cried Sabina. ‘Is it really you?’ And in walked Consuela Cruz, large as life and in six-inch scarlet heels.
‘Meet my new caterer,’ announced Brant. ‘She has agreed to save the day.’
‘Bravo!’ cried Sabina.
For a very short time Consuela Cruz, a dietician and talented chef from Seville, had been in the Redforts’ employ, hired by Mrs Redfort to bring health and wellbeing to the family, though what had actually happened was the cause of a certain amount of indigestion.
Mrs Digby and Consuela Cruz had not hit it off and had disagreed about most things. Plates had been thrown and tomato juice flung. Mrs Digby had felt very much discarded, her cooking somehow relegated to second best – all in all it had been a less than
