Читать книгу Feel the Fear - Lauren Child - Страница 17

THE RADIO WAS TUNED TO TTR, Twinford Talk Radio, and the local news debate was blaring out. First a story about the mayor’s statue, newly commissioned by the mayor himself – it had upset a lot of Twinfordites.

‘IT’S JUST SO UNSPEAKABLY UGLY,’ said Roxy from North Twinford.

‘I HAVE TO SAY, MY TODDLER CRIES EVERY TIME WE PASS BY,’ agreed Judy from Midtown Avenue. ‘I FEEL LIKE THROWING A BLANKET OVER IT, YOU KNOW WHAT I’M SAYING?’

‘I sure as heck do, Judy,’ said the cab driver, ‘it’s just about the ugliest thing I ever laid eyes on.’ The driver looked at Ruby in the rearview mirror. ‘You a fan?’

‘I’m into horror if that’s what you’re asking,’ said Ruby. The sculptor who had attempted to capture the mayor in stone had clearly been going for some kind of modernist vibe, but the result was pure nightmare.

‘I hear you kid!’ said the cab driver, punching the horn. He stuck his head out of the window. ‘Get outta my way lady!’

TTR had moved on to another story about the predicted storms, which despite regular weather updates had yet to ravage Twinford.

‘I MEAN THEY KEEP TELLING US THIS HURRICANE IS ON ITS WAY BUT THERE ISN’T ENOUGH WIND TO FLY A KITE, I PROMISE YOU, I’VE TRIED,’ said Steve from Ocean Bay Suburb.

The other big debate was about a presumed robbery that had taken place on the twenty-sixth floor of the Lakeridge Square apartments. Presumed, because nothing had actually been reported missing yet. ‘LAKERIDGE RESIDENTS TARGETED BY HIGHRISE THIEF,’ announced Ted, the show’s host.

‘I’ll bet it has something to do with that skywalker,’ said the cab driver.

‘What skywalker?’ said Ruby.

‘Some clown’s been spotted walking between those fancy apartments in the city downtown,’ said the cab driver. ‘Doesn’t worry me, I live on the ground floor of a lowrise out in East Twinford.’

‘What, you mean he’s been seen walking on roofs?’

‘No, walking on the air is what I heard,’ said the cab driver. ‘Just strolling between the buildings.’

‘Sounds unlikely,’ said Ruby.

‘SO HOW IS THIS GUY DOING IT, ALICE? HIGH WIRES OR SUPERPOWERS? AND WHAT DO YOU THINK THE TWINFORD POLICE SHOULD BE DOING ABOUT THIS GUY, IF ANYTHING?’

‘DO YOU KNOW WHAT I THINK?’ said Alice from East Twinford. ‘GOOD LUCK TO HIM! I WISH I HAD THE MONEY TO LIVE IN THE LAKERIDGE BUILDING. THESE RICH FOLK HAVE MORE MONEY THAN THEY CAN HANDLE. WHAT DO THEY CARE IF SOME THIEF BREAKS INTO THEIR APARTMENT AND STEALS ONE OF THEIR VALUABLES? THEY SHOULDN’T HAVE ALL THIS WEALTH, IT’S NOT RIGHT, IF I HAD MY WAY I WOULD—’

‘THANK YOU FOR THAT INTERESTING POINT OF VIEW, ALICE, I MIGHT JUST CUT YOU OFF THERE,’ said Ted.

It was an intriguing discussion and Ruby was disappointed when the radio show moved onto the less interesting subject of bathroom limescale. She tuned out and instead let her thoughts drift as she watched the city flick past the cab window. It was only when Ruby had travelled halfway to where she needed to be that she realised she wasn’t going to have enough money to pay for the entire cab journey. Heck, she didn’t have enough to pay the distance she had already travelled. She had spent her dollars on the dress and the book, and now she was short.

‘Look man, you’re gonna have to pull over, I’ll step out here,’ Ruby said to the driver. ‘I’m outta funds.’

The cab screeched to a halt.

‘Unless. . . I don’t suppose. . .’ Ruby ventured, handing him every nickel and dime, ‘you might wanna help out a kid with a busted arm?’

‘Scram,’ said the driver, pointing his thumb in the direction of the sidewalk.

‘Thanks for your kindness sir,’ called Ruby, as the cab driver pulled away. ‘I’ll remember you in my will!’

Ruby arrived at the hospital almost a half-hour late and was met by a sour-faced nurse. Her name tag read, “Nurse Driver”.

‘You’re late,’ she said.

‘Only twenty-seven minutes,’ said Ruby.

‘Late is late,’ said the nurse.

‘Too late?’ asked Ruby.

‘Dr Shepherd has gone,’ said Nurse Driver, hands on hips.

‘Really.’

‘Dr Shepherd is a busy man.’

‘Sorry,’ said Ruby, giving her the old Ruby Redfort sad eyes. ‘I had such trouble getting here, first of all I—’

Nurse Driver raised her hand to stop the tide of excuses. ‘If you promise not to say another word, I’ll see what I can do.’ She made a few calls and told Ruby to sit it out on the hard plastic chairs in the waiting area.

Ruby picked up a crumpled copy of the Twinford Mirror. On page two was a piece about the Lakeridge break-in. Mr Baradi was quite shaken up to find the front door to his twenty-sixth-floor apartment wide open when he arose at 6.20 am.

‘It was unlocked from the inside,’ he explained to the police from the 24th precinct. ‘I ask you,’ he continued, ‘how in the name of rigatoni did that happen?’ Nothing so far has been discovered missing, but the search continues.

Forty-five minutes later Nurse Driver ushered Ruby inside a small white box of a room and informed her that the doctor would see her presently. One hour twenty-seven minutes later the door still hadn’t opened. Ruby read all the notices and information pinned to the walls, first in English and then in Spanish and then in Braille. At last the door opened.

‘So, want to get that thing off?’ said the technician, pointing at her arm.

‘Umm, yeah, that would be nice. Don’t get me wrong, it’s been great, but I oughta be getting back to my parents or they might decide to rent out my room.’

The technician didn’t rise to Ruby’s sarcasm. ‘Is that a yes?’ she said.

‘Yes,’ said Ruby.

‘A yes please?’

‘Yes please mam,’ said Ruby.

‘Better,’ said the technician, who then set about her task and soon enough Ruby’s arm was free of its plaster casing.

‘You got any advice for me?’ asked Ruby, pointing to her newly liberated arm. It felt weirdly draughty, now the plaster was off.

‘Uh huh,’ said the technician, ‘you might want to relax that attitude of yours. It’s not good for your future health.’

Ruby smiled at her. ‘Seeing as how you’re a medical person, I will bear that in mind.’ Then she thanked the technician, offering her a cube of bubblegum, which the technician accepted, and then Ruby strolled back down the corridor and out of the hospital.

Ruby took a taxi home, alerted Hitch to her cash-poor circumstances, and he came out to settle up with the driver – and her father was none the wiser.

Ruby walked into the kitchen to find her mother having her hair put up into an elaborate sort of do. Sabina was turning the pages of the latest copy of the Whispering Weekly, a sort of gossip and fashion journal. The gossip was about celebrities: mostly actors and singers, and the fashion was almost all about how the celebrities looked disastrous in their chosen gowns. FAMOUSLY FABULOUS? OR TRAGICALLY TERRIBLE?

There was one whole section dedicated to mishaps: close-ups of laddered stockings, pimples, ageing skin or bad hair. Tammy the hairdresser kept leaning over Sabina’s shoulder and tutting sympathetically and occasionally even turning the pages. The story Tammy was most interested in was about the actress who had had the misfortune to use a brand of make-up known as Face Flawless. Evidently the actress had attempted to conceal her blemishes so that she might look picture-perfect for her film premiere – the only thing was, Face Flawless used an ingredient in its formula that reacted badly under flash photography. The result was far from flawless: all the areas it covered glowed white. Poor Jessica Riley, her face was just a mess of circles and powdery blotches.

‘My heart goes out to her,’ said Tammy, making a sad face. ‘They shouldn’t print these stories.’ She waited for Sabina to turn the page. ‘I mean look at her,’ she said pointing a comb at a singer who had been snapped in an ill-fitting bathing suit. ‘Poor thing – gosh, though, she might want to think about shrinking those thighs.’

‘I’m sure she feels a lot better knowing that twenty million people like you all pity her,’ said Ruby.

Brant Redfort walked in. ‘Oh Ruby, you look different.’

Sabina looked up from the magazine. ‘Yes, you do. Why I wonder. . .?’

‘Could it be my. . . arm. . .?’ said Ruby.

‘Yes!’ said her parents both at once.

‘We should celebrate!’ said her father.

‘You know me, I love to celebrate,’ said her mother clapping her hands together. ‘Hitch!’ she called, ‘We’re celebrating! Could you rustle up something celebratory?’

There was a long ring from the doorbell followed by another and another.

Mrs Digby answered to find Clancy hopping from one foot to the other.

‘Jeepers child, keep your shorts on.’

‘Sorry!’ called Clancy as he ran up the stairs two at a time.

Clancy had cycled over especially to see the arm.

‘It’s not as hairy as I’d hoped,’ he said when Ruby showed it to him, ‘but it is definitely hairier than the other one.’

Ruby rolled her eyes. ‘Boy, do you live a sheltered life.’

‘Hey Clancy,’ said Sabina, ‘how come you’re not all scrubbed up for the Scarlet Pagoda benefit tonight? It’s a dressy affair, you know.’

Clancy’s face immediately dropped. ‘Because I’m not going is why.’

‘What? Are you insane?’ said Ruby. ‘Have you actually lost your whole complete mind?’

‘My dad has a last-minute ambassadorial dinner tonight so I am strictly on family duty.’

Ruby folded her arms.

‘Look, no one’s as bummed about it as I am,’ said Clancy. ‘I really wanted to be there. I mean, aren’t they showing costumes from The Crab Man Cometh?’

Ruby’s parents looked blank but Ruby nodded.

‘You sure you don’t want to come with us, Clancy dear?’ asked Sabina.

‘Good thinking honey,’ agreed Brant. ‘Come with us.’

‘You gotta come Bozo,’ said Ruby. ‘They’re all the costumes that have appeared in every horror movie you love – and other films too, the cool ones not the schlocky stuff.’

Clancy let out a pathetic laugh. ‘I know! It’s not like I haven’t been looking forward to it for weeks. But you think my dad is gonna let me off to go to that when he’s got Ambassador Sanchez coming? She has eight kids, get that? Eight!’

‘So?’ said Ruby.

‘So,’ said Clancy, ‘my dad only has six kids.’

Ruby looked at him. ‘Is this a competitive thing?’

‘You bet it is. Do you know how difficult it is for women to get on in the political arena?’

‘You’re preaching to the choir,’ said Ruby.

‘So Ambassador Sanchez makes my father look like a lightweight, at least that’s how my dad sees it. Sanchez is the queen of the career family – I mean, heck, she even baked her own cake when the president dropped by last month. She is a single mother of eight and an ambassador who bakes cakes for the president.’

‘She sounds super,’ said Sabina.

‘So your dad’s gonna fight back?’ said Brant.

‘Oh he’s fighting back all right,’ said Clancy. ‘He’s determined to at least look like this really great dad who spends his time looking after his great kids while he does a really great job of doing his great job. So he wants us all there.’

‘What about his really great wife?’ asked Sabina, sipping on one of the celebratory drinks Hitch had just rustled up.

‘She’s having her hair done,’ said Clancy. ‘She had it done yesterday too.’

‘Well, you know what they say, great hair opens doors,’ said Brant.

Clancy scrunkled his nose at this, perhaps trying to work out the truth of the statement. ‘Maybe. . . anyway, he wants us all there with good hair, while he is busy making Twinford believe his career is really great and we are great and he is great and Twinford can be great. You get it?’

‘I get it,’ said Ruby. ‘You can’t come because you are all busy being great and getting your hair done.’

Clancy nodded. That was about the size of it.