The Return of Ruby Rubber

4: Five a Day

Stuart took a deep breath. ‘Right, we’re both a bit pent up here. Match your breathing to mine, let’s try to relax a little. Oh, and you might want to give yourself a bit of room.’ He moved away from most of the furniture, edging uncertainly into a space by the bay window, leaving a gap for Ruth to occupy. She took her place and, closing her eyes, copied Stuart’s deep, rhythmic breathing. Her concentration was broken by a sudden swishing sound. When she opened her eyes, the room had dimmed.

‘Thought I’d better close the curtains,’ explained Stuart. ‘We don’t want the neighbours talking.’

‘Any more than they are already,’ added Ruth. ‘There have been constant updates on male visitors to my house ever since I chucked my husband out.’

‘Oh, you must let me know what they think of me.’

‘I don’t know what I think of you, yet.’

‘Then let me give you something to chew on.’ Stuart recommenced his deep breathing, each inhalation and exhalation having an almost tonal quality. Ruth focussed on this two-note tattoo and tried to match it with her own, slightly higher pitched, version.

‘Now I want you to place the fingertips of both hands gently on the back of your neck, just below the base of your skull,’ instructed Stuart. ‘Keep breathing, keep the rhythm, even as I’m talking. Now, don’t apply any pressure, just slowly circle your fingers in the area around your hairline.’

‘Oooh!’ Ruth shivered as she felt something. Something unfamiliar.

‘Was that it?’ asked Stuart. ‘Did you feel it? A sensation in your fingertips, like the taste of a battery?’

Although rattled, Ruth continued to lightly stroke her neck. ‘I felt something, I - Oooh! There it is again!’

‘That’s it!’ exclaimed Stuart excitedly. ‘You’ve found the highest of your power centres. Now I want you to keep your fingers precisely over those points on your neck.’

Ruth obliged. ‘It’s weird. It feels like I’m completing a circuit, the tingling: it’s racing up my arms.’

‘Excellent. Now, when you feel comfortable, I want you to start massaging those points. Gently, but firmly, work the muscles under your fingers.’

Opening her eyes again, Ruth could see the look of eager anticipation on Stuart’s face. This was pretty big, wasn’t it? Scary big. But excitingly big too. Despite herself, she found herself smiling with the thrill of it all, with her own anticipation of the unknown. She began to press into the flesh of her neck

The tingling that had troubled her arms instantly intensified, pulsing into the rest of her body like an electric shock. Ruth let out a yelp of pain as she felt every muscle in her body convulse. Then, as quickly as it had come, it passed. 

And didn’t she feel great?

It was if she had had an intense massage session in the space of a second. Every knot of tension, every ache that had been with her for so long that she had ceased to realise it was nagging her, had vanished.

‘Well, if nothing else I feel a lot better,’ she announced. ‘It’s like I’ve had the best night’s sleep ever.’ That was the cue for a yawn to work its way up, and Ruth found herself opening her mouth wide and stretching out her arms.

All the way to the far corners of the room. Just like she had done that afternoon.

Ruth babbled at the woman who had by now left the confines of the reception desk and was approaching her menacingly.

‘Now look, this is all some sort of mistake. I don’t have any powers! I mean, I’m not supposed to have any powers, these are just accidental ones. Really!’

‘Oh, I’d like to believe that,’ said the woman, who was taking off her white coat, fully revealing the bodysuit she wore underneath. Ruth could now see that a large stylised monogram reading “QT” had been printed on it in gold in the space between her breast and left shoulder. ‘But it’s too much of a coincidence; someone with your level of power turning up where a known associate of ‘Ruby Rubber’ works. Asking for him by name.’

Ruth backed away toward the exit. ‘Ruby Rubber? She’s been retired for years. What do I know about her?’ Her attention fixed on her approaching opponent, she failed to realise that she had reached the door. She banged right into it, rattling it against its frame.

The woman took Ruth’s stumble as her opportunity and launched herself forward to strike. Entirely by reflex, Ruth twisted her body out of the way, her waist elongating to show the flesh between her blouse and her skirt.

‘It seems you know quite a lot,’ observed Ruth’s unknown assailant. ‘So, I think we’d better make this official. My name’s Quinn Toople, by the way.’

The woman - Toople - frowned as if with a splitting headache. The cure was immediate: with a peculiar, wet, slurping sound, four copies of Toople, identical save for the colour of their bodysuits, emerged from the substance of her body. In a moment she was surrounded by a red, a yellow, a green and a purple garbed version of herself.

‘Five’s my lucky number,’ she said.

Ruth retracted her body until she was her normal size and shape again. She didn’t have a clue what she was supposed to do now. Come up with some witty rejoinder at least, something to give her time to think while she puzzled a way out of this situation.’

‘Eep,’ she said meekly.

À SUIVRE...