The Mystery of Ruby's Mistletoe

Chapter 6

4

Fina would have enjoyed the jolly Christmas atmosphere of the train if it weren’t for her higher-than-usual anxiety about what might be next. People laughed, chatted, and drank tea – as well as a few stronger beverages – all around them in the dining car. Boughs of holly decorated each table, adding to the festive feel.

“I may have missed packing a few things,” she said to Ruby, who was sipping a cup of tea. “But at least I won’t miss my lunch.”

Ruby smiled, sighed, and leaned back in her high-backed chair. “Yes. I’ve learned how cross you become without a meal, even in emergency circumstances.”

“I become as prickly as a hedgehog, don’t I? You will incur the wrath of the alter-ego of Miss Aubrey-Havelock should you make such a grave mistake,” Fina said as she piloted a forkful of potatoes into her mouth. “Of course, hedgehogs are rather adorable.”

“Now that you have a bit of food in your stomach, let’s do what we do best – besides designing gowns for the rich and famous.”

“Yes, Watson,” said Fina, removing the folded-up newspaper from her bag.

“Watson?” Ruby cleared her throat.

“Only pulling your leg. I’m happily Dr Watson. Except I don’t particularly enjoy blood.”

“Nice to have the old Fina return.” Ruby smiled. She took the newspaper and read the headlines aloud.

“December 23rd, 1935,” she said in an official tone. “Foreign secretary resigns.”

“About time,” mumbled Fina as she chomped on a biscuit.

“Rowntree’s of York produce their first chocolate crisp bars.”

“Now there’s some news I can support,” said Fina, picturing lovely chocolate bars stacked high in a sweetshop.

“Italian children have a three-hour school day due to coal shortage.”

“Lucky them!”

“Church of England decides not to admit women to the priesthood.”

“No comment necessary.”

The newspaper made a crinkly noise as Ruby lowered it. “Dear Feens. I won’t be able to get through this if you provide commentary – or even a so-called ‘no comment’ – after every headline. I value your opinion, but…”

Nodding, Fina made a locking motion with her fingers to her lips. She muttered through the corner of her mouth, “Go on.”

“The De La Warr Pavilion at Bexhill-on-Sea opens.” Ruby frowned. “None of this is useful.” She flipped the pages and began again.

Then she leaned forward, wide-eyed.

“What is it?”

“British scientists reproduce polyethylene for the first time,” said Ruby, voice rising.

Fina leaned back in her chair. “You would be thrilled, you chemist.”

“You make it sound like an epithet,” replied Ruby with a little huff. “It’s very important research that…” She interrupted herself. “Police searching for member of Forty Elephants gang.”

“Go on.”

“After another daring robbery of a West End jewellery shop, police are seeking Lillian Kendall and her accomplice, Ruby Sparks. Both are infamous members of the Forty Elephants gang, a syndicate of women-thieves and shoplifters active in London since 1873. They must be good – sixty years is a terribly long time to be in existence!”

Fina choked on her tea, spattering the contents over the clean white linen tablecloth. “You think it’s a coincidence that your name is Ruby and her name is Ruby?”

Ruby tapped her teeth. “There’s a photo of Lillian Kendall, but no photo of Ruby Sparks. That’s the third story I’ve seen this month about the Forty Elephants gang. It seems like their robberies are increasing in frequency. Or at least, they’re taking more chances.”

“Are they the ones who pose as maids in the homes of the aristocracy?”

Ruby nodded and sipped her tea. “Yes, precisely. I have a grudging admiration for them. On the other hand, I would never want to be caught in such a web of violence.”

“So the constable thinks you’re Ruby Sparks? There must be hundreds, if not thousands, of Rubys in England.”

“It’s possible. After all, we’re both known to the police. Maybe they’re looking for people who keep their first names but adopt different last names. I’m in police files, so maybe they’re searching for all the Rubys they already have on file.”

“Hmmm…” Fina brushed a few crumbs off the table and onto her pristine, empty plate. “What worries me even more is that it’s likely there are reports about you – or both of us – not only with local police, but with the intelligence services. If your name pops up in both places, they’ll be even more interested in finding you now.” Fina stared out at the blurred white landscape. The day was still bright and blue, but Fina could see little ice crystals in gaps at the base of the train carriage window.

“I see what you mean,” said Ruby. Fina turned back to observe her friend. Ruby’s hands were underneath the table and Fina pictured them clenched in a ball. “If it weren’t for something like this, they wouldn’t have any reason to cross-check records between local police and intelligence services.”

Fina sighed. “This is another reason we must speak to Pixley. He sometimes covers these stories, even though they’re not his favourite. He might have more information. Perhaps he can help us establish that you couldn’t have been in a certain place at a certain time.”

The smell of orange, cinnamon, and sage wafted toward their table.

“Excuse me,” came a soft voice.

Fina and Ruby both glanced up. A blonde woman in her fifties loomed over them. She wore an immaculate burgundy winter coat with a black velvet beret perched at an angle on her head.

“Please forgive my interruption,” she continued. “But I couldn’t help but notice how you two were dressed in such classic, yet unusual clothes. Do tell me the name of your dressmaker.” She was gazing directly at Fina. Though Fina was accustomed to people talking to her first, before speaking to Ruby, it still infuriated her every time it happened.

“Miss Ruby Dove is the one you want to speak to about that,” said Fina, motioning toward Ruby. The woman’s face flushed slightly, but she complied. Soon, she and Ruby were nattering away as if they were long-lost friends. This gave Fina ample time to inspect the woman. Her clothes and posture indicated that she was either a dancer or had completed finishing school. The latter possibility was the most likely, given the expensive cut of her clothes. Her pursed raspberry lips moved ever so slightly in and out as she listened to Ruby speak, as if the words in her mouth were pushing through to see the light of day.

She turned and walked away, but not before Ruby had offered her a card with her address. Miss Ruby Dove was always on the hunt for the next client.

“A Mrs Penelope Pritchard.”

“Glad you can pay attention to more than one thing at once. I’m completely consumed by this problem of Ruby Sparks.” Fina paused and stared out the window. “Pritchard…”

“You know someone named Pritchard?”

“Yes … my father mentioned a Mr Pritchard now and again. Connected to his honey business in some way.”

“It’s a common enough name. Perhaps it’s only a coincidence.”

“Perhaps,” murmured Fina. “And yet I’ve got a feeling there’s more to Mrs Pritchard than meets the eye.”

Ruby smiled as she stirred her tea. “Why don’t you tell me why you don’t want to visit your aunt for Christmas?”

“Tavistock. Next stop,” announced the conductor.