genes, blame it on the weather, but whatever the reason, it didn’t change the facts – goodness had deserted him utterly, and his soul had gone to rot. Around this monster of a man swirled a murky soup of the vile and the unhinged, all eager to do his dirty work. The plots they hatched and cruelties they inflicted were dark enough to give Wonder Woman herself reason to keep the nightlight lit. So how did a thirteen-year-old school kid from Twinford hold her nerve? Well, no one had promised her it was going to be easy. But what scared Ruby more than the cruel ones, more than the Count even, was the force behind it all, the one who pulled the strings. Because there was someone, and according to the Count it was this someone who wanted Ruby dead and caused the Count himself to shudder.
And one should always, in the words of Mrs Digby:
Fear the wolf that other wolves fear.
Ruby watched as a removal van turned the corner and made its way down Cedarwood Drive. It stopped outside the grey clapboard house, the oldest house on the street. It seemed it was about to become vacant once more. As far back as Ruby could remember, no one ever stuck around long enough to make the house a home.
Ruby Redfort was a girl who embraced change and was not fearful of a little adventure, but lately she wouldn’t mind if the whole world stood still.
A car drove by. It stopped at the junction; the driver wound down the window and threw a soda can onto the street.
October had been a busy month. Her life as an agent at the most secret of secret agencies – known only to those in the know as Spectrum – had been dominated by the growing sense that somewhere in Spectrum’s subterranean corridors there lurked a mole. Ruby had felt the steely looks as the eye of suspicion was trained on her. She had been interviewed by the head of Spectrum 1, Agent Delaware, and it had not been a comfortable experience, particularly when with a steady gaze he had uttered the words, ‘I could be staring into the eyes of a traitor right this very moment and not know it.’ But Ruby shouldn’t have taken it personally – it was simply protocol. Every agent in Spectrum was under suspicion, every single one of them interviewed, investigated and scrutinised. No one had been identified as the mole, no one had been cleared; the tension in HQ was palpable.
As October brought in the storm winds, so the Spectrum investigation brought an uneasy atmosphere which crept through its halls, seeding suspicion and mistrust. And for Ruby everything was beginning to settle at LB’s door.
A builder’s truck manoeuvred its way down the street and pulled up outside the Lemons’ house, blocking part of Cedarwood Drive. An angry driver began honking his horn, but the truck didn’t move. The driver got out of his car, the truck driver out of his truck, and they began shouting at each other. The shouts of the men in the street masked the sound of footsteps on the roof above her. It was only when the hatch opened that Ruby realised that someone was up there.
‘Who’s there?’ cried Ruby, the ladder rocking dangerously as she turned to look.
‘Ah,’ said Hitch. ‘It looks like you’re back.’
‘Jeepers! Ever think of knocking?’ scolded Ruby.
‘A bit weird isn’t it – knocking on the ceiling?’ said Hitch. He had a tool belt around his waist and a reel of cable slung across his shoulder.
‘What are you doing up there anyway?’
‘It’s a long story and I’ll fill you in on it when I’ve got time, but I ought to get going.’
‘You don’t want to hear the latest?’ she asked.
‘Itching to hear your news kid, but it’s a pleasure I’m going to have to put on hold.’ He opened the window and climbed out onto the ledge.
‘Doors too good for you, are they?’
‘I hadn’t realised you were so hung up on the rules,’ said Hitch as he disappeared from view. ‘Good to see you kid,’ he called.
RUBY HAD BARELY REPOSITIONED HERSELF on the stepladder when there was a knock at her bedroom door. Her husky dog Bug got to his feet and ambled over.
‘Is that you?’ she called, slipping the notebook under her behind.
‘Who else would it be?’ came the reply.
‘You may enter,’ Ruby called.
‘One day you’ll break your neck,’ said the housekeeper walking into the room.
Ruby looked down to see Mrs Digby, holding a tray and scanning the floor for empty mugs and dirty plates.
‘That’s not a very cheery greeting,’ said Ruby.
‘It won’t be a very cheering sight if it happens,’ said the old lady. ‘Nor if that butler falls off the house,’ she said, peering out of the window at Hitch. ‘Is he after squirrels again? Or is it window weevils?’
‘Who in only knows?’ said Ruby.
‘What are you doing up there anyway? Spying on folks, I’ll warrant.’
‘Watching,’ corrected Ruby.
‘Same thing,’ sniffed the housekeeper. ‘Never was there a child as curious as you.’
‘Did my folks have a late night or something?’ said Ruby, looking at her watch. It was rare for them to lie in; they were what Mrs Digby called ‘early birds’.
‘If you want the answer to that question then you’re going to have to dial long distance,’ said Mrs Digby.
‘Huh?’ said Ruby.
‘Paris, France,’ said the housekeeper, ‘that’s where they are.’
‘They are?’ said Ruby. ‘Why?’
‘That butler friend of yours talked them into it.’
‘Hitch?’ said Ruby, like the Redforts had a team of butlers.
‘He thought they needed a vacation; why I don’t know since the only vacation they could use is a vacation from vacations.’ Mrs Digby tutted. Just thinking about the number of trips that pair made could make her travelsick.
‘So when are they home?’ asked Ruby.
‘Day after tomorrow. They wanted to be back in time for your return, but apparently all the flights were chock-a-block.’
‘I’m sure Hitch could get them home. He’s pretty good at persuading airline people to do what he wants.’
‘Well, he failed this time,’ said Mrs Digby, ‘but I guess even he doesn’t have much hold over the weather.’
‘The weather?’
‘Blizzards,’ said Mrs Digby. ‘Paris is under
