‘Yes, what’s-her-name,’ agreed Sabina.
‘Yes, the film star being honoured this year. . .’ said Brant.
They both looked at Ruby.
‘Margo Bardem,’ said Ruby. ‘Her career began in the Scarlet Pagoda as an assistant hairdresser and make-up artist, she got spotted and stepped in to replace the main actress in her debut movie The Cat that Got the Canary, produced and directed by George Katsel, who later married Bardem. It was both filmed on location in the Scarlet Pagoda and premiered there in 1952.’
‘Ruby, you are like a sitting encyclopedia,’ said her mother, clapping her hands together.
‘I read the film festival publicity flyer,’ said Ruby.
‘I just hope we raise enough money to rescue that beautiful building,’ said Brant. ‘Can you imagine a Twinford without the Scarlet Pagoda?’
‘I’m not sure the wrecking ball wouldn’t be such an unwelcome idea for that old pile,’ said Mrs Digby, as she entered the room with a large casserole dish.
‘Oh Mrs Digby!’ exclaimed Sabina. ‘You surely don’t mean that.’
‘When you’ve grown up in a rotten falling-down old shack during the great depression, I tell you, you set your sights on something wipe-clean and fungus free.’
Sabina was speechless.
‘I’ll tell you something for nothing,’ said Mrs Digby, heaving the huge dish onto the table, ‘you wouldn’t get me stepping one little toe into that Scarlet Pagoda, no siree, thank you for asking.’
‘Why ever not?’ asked Sabina.
‘The spirit world is why not,’ said Mrs Digby folding her arms.
‘You’re not serious Mrs D? You surely don’t believe that old hokum about hauntings?’ said Brant.
‘Call it what you will, don’t expect me to be there.’
‘But you love those old movies,’ said Ruby. ‘Just think, you might even get the chance to meet some of your screen idols.’
‘I’m not risking it,’ said Mrs Digby. ‘I might find myself face to face with the paranormal.’
‘Are you for real?’ said Ruby. ‘You actually believe in all that?’
‘I most certainly do,’ said Mrs Digby. ‘Kicking and screaming is the only way you’ll drag me in there.’
‘So we can’t interest you in a free ticket to the costume show tomorrow night?’ asked Sabina.
‘You most certainly can’t,’ said Mrs Digby.
‘So who on earth should we invite at this short notice?’ said Sabina.
‘Ask Elaine Lemon,’ said Brant.
‘Good idea,’ said Mrs Digby. ‘She’d scare the pants off any ghoul going.’
At which point the telephone rang.
Ruby left the table and answered the phone. ‘Hello Clance,’ she said. He often phoned during supper: he couldn’t seem to get the hang of the fact that not everyone ate at the exact same time as his family.
‘Hey, how’d you know it was me?’ said Clancy.
‘Because I’m midway through dinner and you often call when I’m midway through dinner,’ replied Ruby. ‘It’s a probability thing. The likelihood is it will be you – you or Mrs Lemon.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you want me to hang up?’
‘Not now you’ve already interfered with my whole digestive process.’
‘Oh, OK.’
‘So why did you call?’
‘I wondered if you had got my message?’
‘What message?’
‘The one I left in the tree.’
‘What did it say?’
‘Call me immediately.’
‘So obviously not.’
‘That’s what I thought.’
‘So why did you want me to call?’
‘To see if you might wanna meet up, no big deal or anything.’
‘Why didn’t you leave a message on my answer machine?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Pause. ‘Force of habit?’
‘Ruby honey,’ called her mother, ‘could you maybe replace the receiver and come back to the table. It’s such a shame when the family dinner is interrupted by the telephone. And it plays crazy potatoes with one’s digestion.’
‘You hear that Clance, now you’ve upset my mom’s digestive process too.’
‘Extend my apologies,’ said Clancy.
‘You can extend them yourself if you wanna come over?’
‘Nah, I feel like sitting up a tree.’
‘Look, how about I see you in twenty minutes on Amster Green. I need to get out, stretch my legs and get some decent conversation.’
‘I thought your folks wouldn’t let you out on your own?’ said Clancy.
‘I’ll bring Bug,’ said Ruby. ‘You know what they say, you’re never alone with a husky at your side.’
‘Who says that?’ muttered Clancy as he hung up the phone.
Ruby sat down at the table.
‘What’s that on your face?’ asked her mother. She was peering at her now, fork in hand, studying her daughter’s face. ‘Is it a bruise?’
‘Probably dirt,’ said Ruby. ‘I might go take a shower.’
But Sabina reached out her hand and began rubbing at Ruby’s cheek.
‘Ow,’ cried Ruby.
‘That’s not dirt,’ confirmed Sabina. ‘You’re probably anaemic, people bruise easily when they’re anaemic – and they become anaemic when their body is under stress.’
‘OK, OK, I promise I’ll stop being anaemic if you lay off rubbing my face,’ said Ruby.
‘A good healthy diet is what you need young lady. Plenty of. . . what’s it called,
