Pick Your Poison. Lauren Child

said Del. ‘You will be under the coat with your head sticking out at the side, sorta tucked under my arm.’

      ‘Sounds very uncomfortable,’ said Ruby.

      ‘It’s not so bad,’ said Del. ‘Erica Grey did it for years.’

      ‘So why don’t you be the severed head and I’ll tuck you under my arm?’ suggested Ruby.

      ‘I’d be delighted but you’re way too short to carry off the coat part of the costume. I’d have to practically bend double to tuck my head under your puny little arm.’

      Del took a photograph out of her backpack – it was a TV still that showed the actress Erica Grey, her head tucked under the arm of who knew who. Her pretty face was made up to look very pale indeed, huge dark circles around vacant eyes, lips blood red and black hair piled elaborately in some kind of historical do.

      ‘I don’t know what you’re complaining about,’ said Del. ‘It’s you that gets the glory, I just get to stand about under a coat all night.’

      ‘So choose a different costume, why don’t you?’ suggested Ruby, biting into the waffles. ‘Boy, these are good.’

      ‘That would spoil the whole deal,’ said Red. ‘We are meant to be going as the Rigors and there are five principle characters.’

      She waited for Ruby to click.

      ‘You and Del will be one person, so that works out well with the six of us,’ said Red, slowly.

      ‘What about the baby?’ asked Ruby.

      ‘We don’t have a baby, obviously,’ said Mouse.

      ‘But the baby is a big part of the comedy,’ argued Ruby.

      ‘Well, it’s too bad because we don’t have one,’ said Red. ‘But we can get a headless dog ’cause that can be Bug.’

      ‘Pardon?’ said Ruby.

      ‘No, not really,’ said Red. ‘What’s with you? There isn’t a headless dog in the show.’ That was true; the dog in the show was called Toadstool and he floated. That wasn’t going to be easy to pull off either.

      ‘Bug will be on skates,’ said Del.

      ‘Skates?’ said Mouse.

      ‘Maybe a skateboard,’ said Del.

      ‘But toadstool is a pug,’ said Ruby. ‘Bug is a husky.’

      ‘We have to make compromises,’ said Red.

      ‘Yeah, ’cause where are we gonna get our hands on a pug?’ asked Del.

      ‘I’ve always wanted a pug,’ said Elliot.

      ‘How does that help?’ asked Mouse.

      There then ensued a long discussion about who might have a pug they could borrow and this led to another discussion about the pros and cons of owning a pug. The overall conclusion was having a pug would be a good thing, the main reason: because it would be very useful if one wanted to dress one’s pug up as Toadstool Rigor.

      When the noise level had died down, they tuned into another sound: it was coming from Ruby Redfort who had her head on the table, one arm stretched out towards her milkshake. The straw had never made it to her mouth.

      ‘She’s sleeping like the dead,’ said Mouse.

      ‘Boy, should she get to bed earlier,’ said Del. She looked at Ruby, sleeping so soundly and then she picked up Clancy’s special permanent space pen and wrote on her arm:

      ‘Del, you do realise that’s a permanent marker,’ said Red.

      ‘Not just permanent but super permanent,’ said Clancy. ‘They use these pens in outer space.’

      ‘If you repeat that one more time I’m going to end up outta my mind,’ said Mouse.

      Del rolled Ruby’s sleeve down. ‘Maybe she won’t notice.’

      ‘What’s going on?’ said Ruby, scratching her arm. ‘I fall asleep or something?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ said Elliot, ‘do you snore when you’re awake?’

      ‘Huh?’ said Ruby.

      ‘What’s with you today?’ said Mouse. ‘It’s like the lights are on but no one’s home.’

      ‘She’s preparing for the part,’ said Elliot, beginning to snicker. ‘Her head is somewhere else.’

      

      MRS DIGBY WAS IN THE KITCHEN trying to manoeuvre a large pumpkin into the pantry when Ruby walked in.

      ‘Child, you shouldn’t be out in this weather without a hat, you’ll catch your death. I swear this wind will blow your mind away and your good health with it.’

      ‘You’re sounding very Halloweeny, Mrs Digby.’

      ‘I just tell it like it is,’ said the old lady. ‘Your lips are blue and your nose is running and it is a most unattractive combination.’

      ‘Well, thanks for your honesty, it really is refreshing.’

      ‘You won’t thank me when you’re dead.’

      ‘But I might come back to haunt you,’ said Ruby.

      ‘Of that I’m certain,’ said the housekeeper. ‘You haunt my every waking hour, why give up the habit when you’re dead?’

      Ruby opened the refrigerator, took out a carton and poured herself a glass of banana milk, then headed up to her room.

      Inspired by the breakfast conversation about The Rigors of Mortis Square, Ruby flicked on the TV, tuned to channel 17 and waited for the next episode to begin. They were rerunning the entire series to coincide with Halloween fever.

      The Rigor family was having trouble with the plumbing and Cordelia Rigor, who had died in a drowning incident, was wading through the kitchen wearing water wings. Toadstool was hovering in swimming goggles and barking a lot.

      The telephone rang and Ruby reached out for the receiver.

      ‘You rang?’ she said.

      ‘Look Rube, can I come over? My sister Olive is driving me crazy.’

      ‘What’s she doing?’ asked Ruby.

      ‘The usual,’ said Clancy. ‘She’s eaten all my Spy Scoundrel figurines.’

      ‘Actually eaten them?’ said Ruby.

      ‘Chewed their heads off,’ said Clancy.

      It was when Ruby heard things like this that she was relieved that she didn’t have a little sister or in fact siblings of any age.

      ‘Sure Clance, come on over, but you better make it quick, the weather guy just said the rain’s coming in.’

      ‘I’ll bring my galoshes,’ said Clancy.

      An hour later, Ruby and Clancy were sitting on her rooftop looking at the sky. They were both wearing their parkas, hoods pulled up over woollen hats to protect them from the wind.

      ‘Boy, this is about as stormy as I can remember,’ said Clancy. ‘When do you suppose the rain’s gonna hit?’

      They could see the lightning way off over the ocean, but it was moving their way.

      ‘Maybe ten minutes, maybe fifteen,’