The Mystery of Ruby's Mistletoe

Chapter 5

3

Fina crept down to the senior common room. Fortunately, for once, no one was nattering away on the phone reserved for students. Unfortunately, however, there was little privacy as the phone was near the hallway. At least no one was around.

Lifting the cold, heavy receiver, she said, “Trunk call, please. Stepney 0303.”

The voice on the other end said, “Just a moment, please.”

Fina peered into the corridor. Silence.

“Hello? This is Pixley Hayford speaking.” The voice from the receiver made her jump. It was so quiet. The hush that comes over a building covered in snow.

“Pixley!” Fina exclaimed, smiling. “This is Fina. No need to panic.” She paused. “And I’m fine. Ruby’s fine. We’re in a bit of a pickle right now—”

“You would be,” he said with a chuckle.

“Be serious for a moment.”

“Right. A serious tone has been established. Half a tick – is this something we ought to discuss over the telephone?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, police tapping phones and all that.”

“I doubt they’ve tapped the Quenby College line.”

Pixley sighed. “Perhaps, but it’s better to be cautious.”

“Right.” She paused as she tried to reframe the question in a vague manner. “Is there any reason certain people – people in power – might be searching for a mutual friend of ours? Maybe for a different reason than usual, or more urgently?”

“Hmmm…”

Footsteps echoed lightly in the hallway. It sounded like someone wandering aimlessly, rather than an irate scout or constable marching about.

“I must dash. Someone’s coming toward me.”

“Wait. One word. Newspaper.”

Ruby stood by the window of Fina’s room, wringing her gloved hands and smoothing down the skirt of her grey wool travelling outfit. She half squinted as the sun hit the side of her face through the lace curtains.

“What did Pixley say?” she asked as Fina entered the room. Fina shivered from the chill but still enjoyed the smell of the dying fire.

“Didn’t have time to say much before Pat interrupted me. Pixley just said ‘newspaper’.” As she said the words, Fina’s eyes alighted on the newspaper Durnford had brought her, alongside the now-empty teapot. “I take it from your travelling outfit that you’re leaving?”

Ruby shoved her hands down deeper into her pockets. “We are leaving, Feens. Together. Now. We’ll sort out this newspaper business on the train.”

“What’s our destination?” Fina lowered herself into the chair as if she were suffering from shock.

“Didn’t you receive an invitation to spend Christmas with your aunt in Tavistock? That’s where we’ll go.”

“But no, I can’t,” whined Fina. She stamped her foot and immediately regretted the childish gesture. She grabbed a soft woollen scarf from the chair and wrapped it around her head, as if she were about to go out into a snowstorm. Somehow it made her more secure. Or perhaps she was just cold.

“What other option do we have? We can’t hide here. The police will likely conclude you know more than you’re telling and will return. Besides, these ostensible ‘activities’ might be something more serious than we could imagine. And what have you got against your aunt, anyway?”

“Nothing.” Fina’s jaw set stubbornly. “Aunt Millicent is lovely. It’s just that – oh, I’ll tell you later. But what about Pixley? We were going to spend Christmas in London with him. Even though your safety is more important, I wouldn’t feel right about leaving him alone.”

“Could you wangle an invitation from your aunt? Didn’t you tell me she said you could bring a few guests along?”

“Well … yes. But wait. Shouldn’t I ring her or send a telegram?”

“We don’t have a moment to spare. Let’s figure that out once we arrive in Tavistock. We can ring Pixley then.”

“How much time do I have to pack?” Fina looked mournfully at the disorder of her room.

“Fifteen minutes. I’ve already looked at the ABC schedule. We need to catch the 12:15 to Tavistock.”