this is all about. If it wasnât for Mason Green those two golden rods would still be buried and forgotten. Why not just leave things as they are?â
Ruby leaned forward and cupped her hand over Geraldâs palm. The gem inside glowed out between their fingers like a Chinese lantern. Ruby tilted her head and peered at Gerald through upturned eyes.
âYou must be curious,â she said. âTo find out what the big secret is. Surely you want to know.â Gerald felt Rubyâs fingers tighten on his own.
There was a stirring in the pit of his stomach.
âIâm hungry,â he said. He broke away from Rubyâs touch and rolled the gem into its leather pouch before shoving it into the back of his sock drawer. He folded up the paper and dropped it into his backpack on the floor by the bed. âLetâs see what Mrs Rutherford has cooked up.â
The lift doors opened onto a blazing row in the kitchen. Mrs Rutherford was on one side of the room, arms crossed and scowling. Opposite her was a slender woman dressed in black shirt and trousers, her hair pulled tightly back into a ferocious bun. Between them was the kitchen table, piled high with trays of canapés.
âYou canât possibly serve thisâ¦thisâ¦rabbit food to the guests,â Mrs Rutherford said, with more force than Gerald had ever heard her use before.
The woman in black shot her a dark glare. âAnd what would you suggest? Sausage rolls and jellied eels?â
Mrs Rutherfordâs cheeks flamed red. Her nostrils flared and she turned to the penguin that had appeared in the kitchen doorway. âMrs Wilkins, I do not think your guests will appreciate being fed puff balls of alfalfa sprouts and raw broccoli. It is not hospitable.â
The woman in black snorted. âPerhaps youâd feel more at home if we deep fried everything in a vat of lard.â
Vi held up her hands for silence, but with no effect. Gerald thought his mother might have exerted a bit more authority if she wasnât dressed as an enormous penguin. She flapped her wings in agitation.
âWhatâs with the costume?â Ruby whispered to Gerald.
âFancy-dress party,â Gerald said. âIâm going as a mortally embarrassed teenager.â
Gerald, Ruby and Sam stared wide-eyed at Vi as she waddled around the kitchen, trying to bring calm.
âMrs Rutherford!â Vi called. âMiss Rousseau! This will be the party of the year. I will not have it ruined by squabbles over the hors dâoeuvres. The people attending this event are here to be seen with me. Theyâre not here for the food.â
Mrs Rutherford sniffed. âYouâve picked the right caterer then.â
Miss Rousseauâs lips tightened. âWhy, you vexatious oldââ
Vi flapped her wings as another shouting match broke out. Just as Gerald thought he might have to restrain the housekeeper, a man stepped into the kitchen.
His very presence brought the screaming to silence.
He wore the full dress uniform of an officer in Napoleonâs cavalry: navy trousers with a broad white stripe down the legs; a dark blue jacket, unbuttoned at the neck, with golden epaulets on his broad shoulders; and a red sash taut across his barrel chest. His hand rested on the grip of a golden sabre slung on his belt. The man surveyed the kitchen as if it were a battlefield. A wry smile appeared on his face.
âWalter!â Viâs face lit up. âThank goodness youâre here. Weâre in the middle of a crisis.â
âA crisis?â The manâs voice was richer than Mississippi mud. âSurely not, maâam.â
Walter surged forward like an icebreaker. He flung an arm around Mrs Rutherfordâs shoulders. âHow could anything get in the way of this eveningâs festivities? With the two finest cooks in London, how could it possibly fail? Now, am I right in assuming that you two fine ladies are having some