The Life of the World to Come (19 page)

Read The Life of the World to Come Online

Authors: Kage Baker

Tags: #Adult, #Science Fiction, #Adventure, #Fantasy, #C429, #Extratorrents, #Kat, #Travel

BOOK: The Life of the World to Come
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“I don’t think so, Alec.”
“Huh?” He was so shocked his body refused to acknowledge what he’d heard, and kept moving him through the dance steps like a machine.
“I don’t think I want to get married after all,” she said, not looking up. “At least, I don’t think it’s in the cards for us.”
“But …” Suddenly the dance steps were more important than ever, his feet were moving with frantic precision, though his mouth hung open. He tilted his head and inhaled, unconsciously trying to catch her scent. “But we made plans, babe.”
“I know we did,” she said. “But things change.”
“You mean my Episode? But I’ve had therapy for that. I’m better now. Babe, you know I’d never hurt you.” He lifted her hand and she pirouetted under his arm, still resolutely avoiding his gaze.
“I know,” she said tersely. “It still wouldn’t work out.”
“But why?”
“Well—for one thing, you sleep with a lot of other girls.”
“But we talked about that.” Alec was beginning to lose the steps, staggering a little. “You said you didn’t mind!”
“I thought I wouldn’t,” Jill said, attempting to keep on dancing. “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
“But—I’ll stop. Okay?” Alec tried to get her to look up at him. She frowned judiciously at the parquet under their shoes.
“That wouldn’t do any good, don’t you see? It would limit your freedom, which wouldn’t be fair to you, after all. And you’d resent that, which would make things worse,” she said. “I’m sorry, but this just won’t work. For both our sakes—”
“But I love you!” said Alec, faltering to a stop at last in the middle of the dance floor. She stopped, too. She drew herself up, took a deep breath, and said calmly:
“Alec, this has been a wonderful relationship, but I really feel it cannot be a permanent one. Okay?”
Alec actually bent down, found himself reaching to turn her face up, anything to get her to look into his eyes, because if he could only do that—
NO!
he screamed silently, realizing what he’d been about to do, squeezing his eyes tight shut.
All around them the members of the London Circle and the Wimbledon Circle were capering, watching the play in sidelong glimpses, ears pricked to hear Alec cry out:
“You mean it’s over, then?”
She raised her eyes at last and saw his stricken face, and: “Yes!” she said, and burst into tears and fled away to the ladies’ lavatory.
Alec stood there like a monolith in the midst of the dancers, white as chalk. His mouth worked, tightened, turned down at the comers. He strode over to the bar and helped himself to a whole bottle of orange juice and another cup, and the chaperone responsible for mixing the punch gave up any thought of protest after one look at Alec’s eyes.
A wrought-iron catwalk ran around the room about five meters up, where in former times it had been pleasant for lovers to stroll and look down on the festivities. McCartney Hall was very old, however, and the catwalk had long been closed pending the arrival of funds from somewhere to bring
it up to modern safety codes. There was a sign to that effect at the entrance to the stairway, which Alec ignored as he vaulted over the rope and climbed up to sprawl in splendid isolation on the catwalk, sneering at the balloons that drifted along the ceiling. Thirty-seven balloons exactly; fourteen black, twenty-three white. Wasn’t it just great to be smart as paint?
From the depths of his shirt he drew out a flask, a beautiful antique of hammered silver. In full view of the dance floor he poured gin into his cup and added orange juice, and sat there arrogantly sipping a real cocktail. Below him the band swung into “Hep-Hep! (The Jumpin’ Jive).”
The news spread like wildfire.
“My God, is she nuts?” gasped the Honourable Cynthia Bryce-Peckinghill.
“But he’s an
earl
,” gasped Beatrice Louise Jagger.
“She didn’t! She
knows
how much money he’s inherited,” gasped Marilyn Deighton-True.
“I knew she was a snooty bitch, but I never dreamed—” gasped Diana Lewton-Bygraves.
“Look here, old man, are you all right?” said Balkister, clinging to the stair rail as he ventured out on the catwalk. He looked down and turned pale. Dropping to hands and knees he crawled out after Alec.
“Fine,” Alec said. “Want a drink?”
“Don’t mind if I do. Real Orange Blossoms, eh?” Balkister accepted the cup and took an experimental swallow. His eyes bugged slightly but he said: “S-superb. You have such a sense of cool, Checkerfield.”
“Yeah. Women are really impressed,” Alec drawled. “‘We hope you’ve enjoyed the thrilling Alec ride! Please remember your coat and daypack as you exit to the left.’”
“Look, I heard about Jill. You mustn’t mind, you know?”
“Mustn’t I?” Alec had another drink. “Okay, I won’t.”
“I’m sure it was just hormones or something. My spies tell me she’s in the loo crying her eyes out right now. Even if it’s really over, well, she’s the one crying, and doesn’t that count for something? And she was awfully temperamental. Bossed you around no end, really. Didn’t she?”
“Did she?” Alec unscrewed the cap of the flask and added
more gin to the mix. “I guess everything’s just bishareedo then, huh?”
“Well, whether or not we’re happy is largely up to us,” said Balkister. “Positive thinking and all that crap, but it’s true, you know.”
“Good,” said Alec. He passed the cup to Balkister, who sipped carefully.
“I’m speaking out of my limitless experience with the fair sex, of course,” he said, with a bitter laugh. “Look at it like this, Checkerfield. You could be an ugly little squirt like me.”
“I’m ugly enough,” said Alec, taking the cup back.
“True true. But women seem to love you all the same.”
“No, they don’t,” said Alec firmly.
“I just heard,” said Blaise, advancing cautiously along the catwalk. He crouched beside them, poised on the balls of his feet. “Checkerfield, can I have a drink?”
“Help yourself.” Alec handed him the flask.
“Thanks.” Blaise poured gin into his own cup, but did not return the flask. “You know, Checkerfield, maybe this was for the best.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Well, are you really cut out for domesticity? Ball and chain, squalling kids, reduced to being somebody’s dependable hubby? Not you, Checkerfield. You’ve got adventure in your blood. How can you have fun if you’re tied down?”
Below on the floor, the band began to play “Pickin’ the Cabbage,” a tune with a rather menacing minor key melody.
“Yup. You’ve got a point, all right,” Alec said. Blaise glanced down uneasily and licked his lips. He tucked the flask inside his coat and went on:
“Remember, we talked about the great things you might do someday? Like maybe going to Mars? I know for a fact Jill wasn’t about to let you roam around. She’d plans for you, old man. But you’ve got plans of your own, haven’t you? You want to stay free! After all, look at your father.”
Alec flinched and had another drink. Balkister looked up at Blaise sharply. Blaise went on: “Now,
there
was a man. How many people in this day and age have the guts to thumb their noses at inherited responsibility and sail off into the blue, living
as they please? Everything was just great until he married. I mean, other than producing you, wouldn’t you agree that his marriage was a fatal mistake in every respect? Was he ever happy again? Did he ever make any great discoveries after that, with a wife and household in tow? You know he didn’t.
Wives!
” He shuddered elaborately. “Don’t you owe it to him to avoid making the same mistake?”
Before Alec could reply, there was a clatter of heels on the catwalk and the Honourable Cynthia Bryce-Peckinghill edged out toward them, followed closely by Beatrice Louise Jagger.
“Alec, sweetie,” said Cynthia. “We love you! Please, please, don’t forget that we all love you!”
“I love you, too,” said Beatrice. “I’d marry you in a New York second, honey, I’m serious!”
“Jill is out of her tiny mind, really!” Cynthia crowded past Blaise to reach a consoling hand toward Alec. “Lots of people have Episodes!”
“There are plenty of fish in the sea, you know!” Beatrice pushed after Cynthia, glancing over her shoulder to snarl at an unidentified girl from the Wimbledon Thirty who was hastening up there, too.
It was at this point that someone on the dance floor alerted Lord Howard to the fact that a flask had been spotted in the possession of one of the persons on the catwalk. Lord Howard turned a dangerous shade of purple under his face powder, and mounted the creaking stair with the wrath of an offended god.
“Right,” he roared, hitching up his dress as he climbed swiftly. “Which of you young fools brought alcohol in here?”
As one, the parties on the catwalk spotted him and froze. He reached the top and stalked toward them. One of his spike heels caught in the iron gratework. He halted, grimacing as he attempted to pull it free. There was a terribly ominous squeak, and the catwalk shuddered all along its length. Blaise vaulted into space, turning in the air like an acrobat, and landed safely on the floor below.
“Oh, shit said Lord Howard, frantically yanking at his heel. The catwalk shuddered again. Ancient iron parted with
ancient plaster, and the whole thing dropped a few centimeters down the wall.
“
LOOK OUT
,” said Blaise from the floor, and then he vanished into the crowd. There was shrieking and general excitement as people scattered and the Mss. Bryce-Peckinghill, Jagger, and Unknown swarmed frantically past Lord Howard. Balkister had covered his face with his hands, petrified. Alec remained where he was, looking very surprised. The only ones to miss all the excitement were Jill, who was in the lavatory, and Colin Debenham, who had followed her in there.
Screaming like a live thing, the catwalk swung outward from the wall, gently descending as it came. Lord Howard was tilted out into space, giving the assembled company a fine view of his garter belt and panties before he dropped into the helpful arms of Elvis Churchill and Alistair Stede-Windsor. The bottle of orange juice rolled out and burst, splashing everyone who hadn’t stepped far enough away. The young ladies tumbled the last few feet to the floor, and Balkister summoned enough courage to jump, landing perilously close to the bandstand and causing a bass player to leap back in alarm and collide with the drummer’s kit, precipitating a chain reaction better seen than described.
Only Alec rode the catwalk all the way down, until it spilled him out at floor level and he staggered upright, wide-eyed, still clutching his drink.
“I guess I’d better leave now,” he said to nobody in particular, and made his exit in some haste.
“Bloody hell,” said the Captain from the instrument panel. “What’ve you been doing, laddie? Where’s the girl?”
“She’s not coming,” Alec said. “And I’m drunk, and you’d better drive, and could you get us away from here pretty fast, please?”
The Captain swore and gunned the motor. Within seconds they were speeding away through the night, leaving the commotion of McCartney Hall far behind. Alec began to cry silently, and the wind pushed his tears out along his broad cheekbones.
“Drunk again, after all we talked about,” growled the Captain. “Damn it, son, what’s it going to take to control you? Did anybody see the booze? Have you got it on you now?”
“I did have—” Alec fumbled in his pockets. “Hell. It’s gone someplace. Is that all you care about? Jill just ripped my heart into little shreds, man.”
“All right, matey, all right. I don’t think we’ll go home to John Street just yet, eh? You want to talk this out before you sleep, son, that’s what you want. So you broke up with Jill, did you?”
“All I did was ask her to marry me,” mourned Alec. “She was the only one who didn’t act like I was a zoo exhibit, after the Episode. She’s smarter than the rest of ’em. I thought she understood.”
“Aah. But the lassie was scared of commitment and not letting on? Now, I’d been wondering what was the matter with her.” The Captain steered into Oxford Street and sped on in the direction of Edgeware Road.
“You mean even you knew something was wrong?” Alec was appalled. “Don’t tell me everybody but me knew.”
“Why, lad, I’m programmed to notice all sorts of little subtle subliminal things you can’t, so don’t take it amiss. She’d a bit of baggage with her, hadn’t she?”
“What’re you talking about?” Alec steadied himself as they turned into the Edgeware Road and the Captain let the car pick up some real speed along the straightaway.
“Well, now, son—you know I do a bit of checking up on them as gets close to you. It’s in my programming, after all. And I reckon you know that the lass didn’t come from a particularly happy home,” said the Captain in his most sympathetic voice.
“Yeah. Her people were divorced, same as mine,” said Alec, wiping his face with both hands.
“Well, I’ll tell you straight out, bucko: I think the young lady has a pathological fear of relationships. Scared they’ll turn out like her parents’ marriage, see? Nothing really to do with you,” lied the Captain smoothly.

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