A pristine, pinstriped lawn, broken up only by the lace of the bright white cast-iron garden dining set. When she opened the window and leant out she thought she could see a swimmingpool, just beyond what looked like a huge greenhouse. It was hard not to be wowed by this level of wealth, as much as she tried to resist it. Everything around her looked so solid, so rooted in its place, as though that armchair had sat in that exact spot for centuries. Maybe it had.
Just then, a mighty clang reverberated through the walls and made Ruby’s blood rattle. She couldn’t place the sound for a moment, and then her ears adjusted and she realised that that was probably what a gong sounded like in real life. The kung fu films she’d watched, her only reference, didn’t do any justice to the physicality of the sound.
It must be time for dinner.Strange, how commanding the call was, how clear the message, even to her, who’d never been summoned to tea in this way before.
She emerged from her room at the same time as Adam. He gave her a shy smile.
‘I’m guessing we should head downstairs?’ Ruby said drily.
He nodded and gestured for her to lead the way. She could tell he was a dancer, something about the way he held out his arm, straight, still, but full of energy.
‘Wonder what’s on the menu,’ Ruby mused as they walked down the stairs.
‘Perhaps a quail stuffed inside a partridge.’ There was that clipped enunciation again. Ruby turned to him with what must have been a look of disgust, and Adam’s face softened into a wide smile. He was joking. Ruby felt herself warm to him instantly. She laughed.
At the bottom of the stairs, Gareth was standing next to the giant gong, his swaying mirroring the plate of brass.
‘A la table, les petites!’ His words were slightly slurred.
Ruby was bemused, but next to her, Adam’s face was marred with concern.
‘Gareth, come along, let’s go sit down.’ Gently, Adam wound his arm through Gareth’s. Something about the interaction suddenly made Gareth look a lot older, frail somehow. Adam led him down the hall into the dining room.
The oblong table was set out with eight places. A long terracotta-coloured runner lay down the middle, matching the uniformly folded napkins and stick candles. Opal sat at the head, and next to her a man with a mop of lusciously black curls and thick eyelashes. He must be one of the other artists, Ruby thought. He was quite beautiful, but a little too boyish for Ruby’s taste. Johan was sat, unmoored, up at the other end of the table. Ruby was glad to see he too was wearing a look of bemusement. She took her place next to him.
‘Ah, at last, the stragglers have joined us.’ Johan stood as he spoke, and Ruby noticed that the thick East End twang he’d had earlier was far less discernible now. ‘Didn’t you hear the gong?’ His blue eyes held Ruby’s gaze as he spoke; his tone was lightly mocking. Ruby smirked. It was notherhe was mocking; it seemed she was far from alone in finding this whole situation comically surreal.
The boyish man stood up too. ‘Hello, nice to meet you all. I’m Noah.’ He spoke with a thick Brummie accent. He held out his hand to no one in particular and Adam obliged. Ruby just gave him a nod and sat herself down next to Johan.
Now Opal was standing, and looking even more flustered than she had earlier. ‘Yes, um, Noah is the fourth participant in the tournament. He just arrived.’ Opal repeatedly tucked a single strand of hair behind her ear as she spoke.
‘I think the lady of the house has the hots for him,’ Johan whispered into Ruby’s ear.
‘Please do make him feel welcome. He’s a um … what was it again, Noah?’ Opal turned to him but dropped her gaze.
‘I’m a scent and sound designer, or sometimes I say I’m a sensory artist.’ Noah grinned.
Gareth had stumbled over to the seat opposite Johan. ‘Isn’t all art sensory?’ he muttered to no one in particular as he reached for the opened wine bottle.
Opal shot him a look. ‘Haven’t you had enough, darling?’ She kept her voice low, but even from where Ruby was sitting, the message was clear.
‘Probably,’ Gareth replied as he filled his glass.
‘You’re very right, Gareth. I guess I’m just trying to cater to the other, underrepresented senses. Doesn’t your nose also deserve to experience beauty?’ Noah was almost relentlessly cheery.
‘You think all art is about beauty?’ This time it was Johan piping up. Now Noah did look a little put out. Opal laid a hand on his shoulder and coaxed him into his seat.
‘Well that sounds like a topic of lively debate, but if I could get everyone’s attention I’d like to make a toast.’ Opal held up her glass. Adam had taken the seat next to Ruby, but there were still two empty places. ‘To art.’
Everyone raised their glasses, and Ruby looked around to make sure everyone else was buying into this corny shit before she committed.
‘And let the games begin!’ Opal looked gleeful as she took a large sip. The rest of the table followed suit.
‘Excuse me, Miss Fairfax, but is this everyone?’ It was Noah asking.
Ruby watched as Opal blushed.
‘Um, no it isn’t, Noah. We’re expecting Heather, but I don’t think the train from Glasgow arrives till past ten, so we’ll save her some dinner.’ Opal cleared her throat. ‘Please call me Opal … and my husband, Martin, is due any minute as well.’
