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opposite. He had a sweeping view of the rear lane and the chain of luxury terraced houses across from his own. Not a roof slate was out of place. Window boxes were carefully tended, blooms of red and yellow dotting the upper levels. Two houses down, a man in a dark suit and parade-gloss shoes swept leaves from a driveway out into the cobbled lane. Gerald watched as the man bent down to run a thumb across the toe of his right shoe, wiping away some smudge or speck of dirt. The man inspected the spotless driveway and retreated behind automatic gates as they swung closed, sealing off the outside world.
    â€˜Imagine being trapped in a life like that,’ Gerald thought. ‘What a drudge.’ Then he looked down to discover Mr Fry, broom in hand, ejecting a pile of leaves from his driveway. The butler surveyed the result and, with a nod of satisfaction at a job well done, wandered back towards the kitchen door. He paused by the Rolls Royce parked in the drive. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he dusted it across the silver bonnet ornament, then disappeared into the house.
    Gerald shook his head. ‘Just imagine…’
    He sat on the edge of his mattress and drummed his fingers on the bedside table. He had promised himself that he would stop thinking about it; stop wondering about its meaning. He knew he had to keep it out of his mind. But…
    â€˜One more time won’t hurt,’ he told himself, and he opened the top drawer. From under a pile of socks he pulled out a red suede jewellery roll, secured around the middle by a leather lace.
    He unrolled the pouch to reveal a ruby, the size of an egg. Gerald picked up the gem in his fingertips and held it up to the window. A pink sheen washed across his face as he gazed into the ruby’s heart.
    â€˜What secrets are you keeping?’ he whispered. The stone seemed to vibrate like a deftly struck tuning fork. He twisted the gem this way and that, letting the sunlight play across its facets. ‘What are you trying to tell me?’
    Gerald tossed the stone onto the bed and opened a flap on the jewellery roll. He slid his fingers inside and pulled out a folded square of paper. He was about to flatten it out when there was a knock on the door.
    â€˜Just a minute!’ he called out. He shoved the gem under his pillow, sweeping the leather pouch and paper in after it. ‘Okay, you can come in.’
    The door opened and Gerald turned to find a white-haired woman, dressed in a grey servant’s tunic, standing in the doorway.
    â€˜Pardon the intrusion, Master Gerald, your guests have arrived.’ The woman stepped aside and Sam and Ruby bowled into the room.
    â€˜Thanks, Mrs Rutherford,’ Ruby said as she plopped down into an armchair by the window. ‘Looks like quite the party you’re preparing for downstairs.’
    The housekeeper jutted out her chin and drew the corners of her mouth down. ‘It is none of my doing, Miss Ruby,’ she said. ‘It seems Mrs Wilkins thought preparing food and drink for two hundred and fifty guests was beyond my limited abilities. She has engaged the services of,’ Mrs Rutherford paused as if she had just swallowed a rancid oyster, ‘a caterer .’
    â€˜But your cooking is fantastic,’ Sam said. ‘I thought we’d be having something spectacular.’
    â€˜Oh, it will be spectacular,’ Mrs Rutherford said. ‘If you consider rubber chicken and packaged sauce spectacular. But Mrs Wilkins is the lady of the house and I am but a lowly cook…apparently.’
    â€˜So what are you doing tonight if the caterer is running the kitchen?’ Ruby asked.
    â€˜I believe Mr Fry keeps a stock of very reasonable sherry in the butler’s pantry for such occasions,’ she said.
    Gerald looked at Sam and then at Mrs Rutherford. They looked like they were about to attend a funeral.
    â€˜I don’t feel like rubber chicken tonight,’ Gerald said.