The Mask of Destiny (7 page)

‘What's the princess doing here?' the girl said.

Ruby's eyes shot wide.

Gerald cleared his throat with a nervous cough. ‘Uh, Sam and Ruby, you remember my cousins, Octavia and Zebedee?'

It was going to be a long night.

Chapter 5

G
erald held his breath. And waited.

Ruby scanned Octavia's face. She was taking in every detail: the creases across the forehead, the narrowed eyes, the cluster of flyspeck freckles on the nose, the sharply upturned top lip.

The silence seemed to suck all the air from the room. Ruby tilted her head. Then she plunged at Octavia and flung her arms around her neck.

‘Octavia!' Ruby cried, squeezing a sharp
oomph
from the girl. ‘How
are
you? It's been too long. I haven't seen you since…oh, when was it?'

Octavia struggled to free herself from Ruby's grip. ‘Since you locked me and Zeb behind the fireplace at Beaconsfield,' she said, with venom in her voice.

‘
Really
?' Ruby said. She skipped over to a table piled high with board games and made as if she was inspecting them with rapt interest. ‘Has it been that long?'

Octavia squared her shoulders, her eyes ablaze. ‘You snot-faced little—'

Gerald coughed loudly and rushed across to put an arm around Ruby and steer her to the buffet at the far side of the room. ‘Sam, why don't you and Zebedee see if there are any games worth playing in that pile,' Gerald said. ‘I need a quick chat with Ruby.'

Ruby allowed herself to be dragged over to the sideboard, but her eyes never left Octavia's scowling face.

‘Is there something the matter, Gerald?' Ruby asked, all innocence.

‘Don't be a pain,' he said. ‘You know what Octavia's like. She doesn't need any urging from you to turn this into a nightmare.'

‘All I said was it had been a while since we'd seen each other.' Ruby fluttered her eyelashes at him. ‘Is that such a bad thing?'

Gerald gave her an ‘are you for real?' look.

‘What?' Ruby said. ‘Can't I have a bit of fun?'

Gerald looked over to where Sam was sorting through the games. Octavia and Zebedee were muttering to each other in the corner.

‘I don't think tonight is about having fun,' Gerald said.

‘Why are they even here?' Ruby asked. ‘I thought your mother and your uncle Sid were fighting.'

Gerald picked up a plate of wilted alfalfa sprouts and dried up carrot sticks from the buffet and looked at it with distaste. ‘Walter told Mum she needed to repair some broken fences. It's all part of the life course he's putting her through. A twelve-step personal property appraisal, or something.'

‘It looks like Walter has his hooks into your mum good and proper.'

‘I know. I'm hoping it's just a phase she's going through. Parents can be so frustrating.'

Sam wandered over, a look of bemusement on his face. ‘It looks like we've got a choice of playing parlour games with the chuckle twins over there,' he said, ‘or we could skip the kids' party and check out what's going on downstairs.'

‘Parlour games?' Ruby said. ‘Who plays parlour games anymore?'

The doors to the room suddenly opened. In the entrance was a tiny woman, wrapped in a shawl so tight it gave the appearance of being the only thing holding her bones together. Her skin was the colour of a used teabag and sat so tight on her frame it looked like she would split open in a high wind. On either side of her stood two of the palest children Gerald had ever seen.

‘Uh, hello?' Gerald said.

The woman fixed him with a rifle stare.

‘You are Gerald?' she said. It was more accusation than question.

‘Uh, yes,' Gerald said.

The woman prodded the pale boy between the shoulder blades, pushing him into the room. ‘This one is Wendell.' She repeated the shove on the girl. ‘This one is Caroline.'

The pair stood knock-kneed on the rug.

Octavia glared at Wendell. ‘What are you doing here?' Then, in an appalled tone, ‘You're not friends with the princess, are you?'

Gerald latched his hand onto Ruby's arm, holding her back. ‘Easy tiger,' he said.

‘We live next door,' the boy said in a barely audible peep. ‘Our parents are at the party downstairs.'

Octavia crossed her arms and ran an appraising eye over the newcomers. ‘And what did you come dressed as? A glass of water and a wisp of smoke?'

The pair stared saucer-eyed at Octavia, not sure what to say.

‘Never mind her,' Gerald said, rescuing them. ‘She has a condition.'

‘What sort of condition?' Caroline asked, making sure to keep well clear of Octavia as Gerald ushered them towards the buffet.

‘She gets cranky is she hasn't feasted on human blood,' Ruby said.

The doors shut with a solid thud. The woman made her way to an armchair and settled herself.

‘You will play snakes and ladders now,' she said. She extended a bony finger in the direction of the games table.

Octavia screwed up her nose. ‘I hardly think people of our age are going to play snakes and—'

‘NOW!'

The noise that erupted from the woman's throat rattled the windows.

Gerald led a slow march towards the table. ‘Excuse me,' he said to the woman. ‘Who are you?'

The woman pulled a packet of cigarettes from a beaded case. She pushed a cigarette into the end of a black holder, which she then clamped between her teeth. She lit the end, snapping the lighter shut with a practised flick of her wrist. The cigarette tip glowed and crackled as the woman drew in a seemingly endless breath. Finally, she expelled two jets of smoke from her nostrils.

‘Do you mind?' Octavia coughed.

The look on the woman's face clearly showed that she did not. She ashed the cigarette into a bowl of peanuts on a side table.

‘Your task is to play games,' the woman rasped. ‘Shut up and do it.'

The seven of them pulled up chairs around a card table. Gerald was taking the lid from an ancient box of snakes and ladders when the woman spoke again. ‘I'm a cousin of your father's,' she said to Gerald. ‘A distant cousin. I abhor parties.

‘What's wrong with parties?' Ruby said.

The woman picked a speck from the tip of her tongue and regarded it with interest. ‘They are a pointless exercise,' she said. ‘Nothing of use can be learned at parties. All that chattering and all those lies. People like you should be seeking life's truths, not wrapping themselves in pretence and falsehoods.'

Gerald raised an eyebrow. This woman was related to him? ‘What's your name?' he asked.

‘Clea,' the woman said. ‘Don't use it unless there's an emergency.'

She stubbed out the cigarette and fitted another into the holder. Clearing her throat with a moist hack, she lit up again.

‘What's the matter with you pair?' she said to Octavia and Zebedee, who couldn't take their eyes off her. ‘Not having fun yet?'

The next two hours dragged by in a smoke haze of brain-deflating boredom. Wendell and Caroline barely spoke, apart from occasional whispers between them-selves; though, they did brighten when Clea ordered everyone to play anagrams.

‘Here's a good one,' Caroline said. ‘Semolina is an anagram for
is no meal
.'

Wendell was the only one who laughed.

Octavia was staring at Ruby with snake eyes. ‘The magazines say you two are in love. So, has there been any kissy kissy?'

Zebedee started making smooching noises on the back of his hand. Octavia cackled with delight.

Gerald looked at Ruby, expecting her to erupt. To his surprise, she sat with a serene smile on her face.

‘I don't read those sorts of magazines,' she said. ‘Gerald and I are just good friends. Aren't we, Gerald?' She placed her hand on the back of Gerald's and squeezed.

‘Uh, that's right,' Gerald said. ‘You can't believe what you read in those things.'

Ruby dropped Gerald's hand and latched onto Octavia's. ‘They tell the most wicked lies,' she said, fixing Octavia with an intense stare. ‘It's sickening. I mean, you don't believe that story about us planning to kill Mason Green if he walked free from court, do you?'

‘Er,' Octavia said, looking nervously at Ruby's hand as it tightened on her own.

‘I didn't read anything like—' Gerald began, but stopped when Ruby switched her glare to him. Then he realised. It was a wind-up. ‘Uh, that's right,' Gerald said, trying not to smile. ‘It was a big conspiracy. I'd already hired a hit man from Bulgaria to do the job. Big money. Very hush hush. You won't tell anyone, will you?'

Octavia looked first at Gerald, then at Ruby. ‘You two are nuts,' she said, snatching her hand back.

From her smoke-cloaked chair, Clea hacked, ‘Play!'

Zebedee stared at the card in his hand, a look of total confusion on his face. ‘I don't get it,' he said. ‘What are you supposed to do?'

Octavia clicked her tongue and took the card from her brother. ‘It's anagrams. You rearrange the letters in this word to come up with the answer to the clue. Even you can do that.'

Ruby piped up. ‘Sure, it's very straightforward. For example, the anagram for Octavia Archer is
I've a crater
face
.'

Sam snorted, stifling a giggle.

Octavia thought for a second. ‘No it isn't,' she said. ‘There's no
f
in my name.'

‘Really?' Ruby said. ‘When Gerald saw you earlier I'm sure he said: there's f in Octavia.'

Gerald's chair bounced across the rug as he hauled Ruby by the arm over to the far side of the room. Octavia was on her feet, fists pounding the tabletop, screaming abuse at them. Her face was purple. Clea, for her part, sat back in the armchair with a look of quiet satisfaction on her face. She turned a page in her book and blew a smoke ring into the air.

‘What are you doing?' Gerald hissed at Ruby, trying to ignore the screeches coming from Octavia.

Ruby had a glint of mischief in her eye. ‘Serves her right for calling me a princess,' she said.

Gerald looked back at his fuming cousin. Sam was doing his best to settle her.

‘Look, I'm not enjoying this any more than you,' Gerald said to Ruby. ‘But I can't see any way out. Clea's not going to let—'

A soft
ding
cut him off. They both looked at the wood-panelled wall by the sideboard. There was a small red light next to a discreet silver button set into the mahogany. Gerald gave Ruby a quizzical look. He stretched out a finger and pressed the button. A section of the panelling about waist high slid up to reveal a cosy space behind.

‘A dumb waiter!' Ruby said.

Gerald peered into the darkened box about a metre cubed. ‘What's it for?'

‘It's like an elevator, to bring food up from the kitchen.' Ruby reached inside and took out a folded piece of card that had been propped on the floor.

There's proper food in the kitchen
, she read. ‘Mrs Rutherford has come to our rescue.'

Gerald looked back to the card table. Octavia had her back to them, in a deep sulk. Zebedee had made a hat from the game box, and Wendell and Caroline soldiered on with the anagrams.

‘Oh, that's an easy one,' Wendell said. ‘
Astronomer
is a
moon starer
.'

Clea remained in her chair with her head in her book and smoking like a blocked chimney.

Gerald caught Sam's eye and beckoned him over. He slipped across unobserved.

‘Want to get some real food?' Gerald said to him.

Sam beamed. ‘Mrs Rutherford food?'

Gerald slid backside first into the dumb waiter, tucking his knees under his chin. Ruby and Sam squeezed in after him. Gerald took an elbow to the eye and a head to the ribs in the crush. ‘Push a button, will you?' he said. ‘Any button.'

Ruby was closest to the front and she pressed at the keypad. The door slid back into place, casting them into darkness. The tiny elevator moved down with a lurch.

‘We should have done this hours ago.' Sam's voice came out of the tangle of limbs. ‘I wonder what's to eat?'

The dumb waiter came to a halt. Nothing happened.

‘Now what?' Gerald said.

Ruby pushed another button. The door slid up, and they stared out at a riot in progress.

‘I don't think this is the kitchen,' Ruby said.

The dumb waiter had stopped in the ballroom.

Gerald had always considered adults incapable of enjoying themselves. Always griping about unmade beds and the washing up. They seemed programmed for misery. Which was why it was taking him so long to process the scene before him.

The ballroom was going off.

It was fancy-dress madness. There were streamers and lights of every colour and hue. A band played in the corner, the brass section struggling to make itself heard above the roar of the well-fuelled crowd. There was braying and screaming, shouts and hilarity. Clea would not approve.