Celestial Land and Sea (6 page)

"Shh!" Grace nudged Harriet. She
had
noticed the size of the woman's breasts—how could she miss them? - but had made the wise decision not to mention them. She hoped Harriet was going to behave herself tonight; it was never a guarantee when she'd been drinking.

"But they're huge! I bet there are planets smaller than those things!"

Grace swallowed a splutter of laughter, trying to ignore the comment. She tried to change the subject as they neared the house. "Did you remember to pick up the bottle for Caroline?"

She patted her oversized shoulder bag. "Hugging it for safety, you know?"

"Good."

As they turned into the driveway, Caroline's front door flung open. "Gracey, darling!"

"Hi, Caroline." She tried to remember to breathe as Caroline squeezed a hug out of her.

"And Harriet, how lovely to see you again!" It was difficult to tell whether or not she was being sincere. They'd not been in the same room together for several years, not since Caroline's birthday and the incident with the cute bartender from Manchester. Grace was glad she'd left early that night; the stories she'd heard were painful enough to imagine. She could only be thankful that she hadn't actually witnessed them.

"Take a seat," Caroline said as they headed into the living room. The woman carrying the Tupperware box was sitting in the corner, already nursing a large glass of something fruity and alcoholic. A gaggle of women were clustered around the sofa and sitting on plastic chairs. One blonde woman Grace was sure she'd never met before was slouched in a large beanbag. The air was filled with shrieks of laughter.

"Look what Julie brought!" Caroline pulled the lid off the Tupperware. She thrust it toward Grace and Harriet, who were still standing in the doorway and trying to work out which of the few empty seats they should occupy. Caroline held the Tupperware under their faces to offer them something to nibble on.

"Chocolate penis?"

 

Grace closed her eyes to wish away her headache. It already seemed like a long night, and they'd only been there just over an hour.

"Carol, where're your cocktail sticks?" a voice called through from the kitchen.

"How do you know I've got any, Nicola?"

"Your kitchen's always loaded!"

Caroline sighed. "Top drawer beneath the knife block," she called. She turned to face the rest of the room. "Right, who's up for a game of Twister?" She pulled out the box from behind her as Julie squealed, "ME!"

"Good heavens!" Grace remarked as she pulled her hand to her ear and leaned toward Harriet to escape the piercing noise.

"I think somebody might have had a bit too much to drink!" Harriet said. And she was right. Grace was sure that Julie had not had too many drinks, but apparently the few that she'd had were enough to tip her already overly-excitable personality into a state of drunkenness.

As Caroline unfolded the game, even she couldn't deny that perhaps Julie should skip the drinking part of the game as she watched her slump deeper upon the chair on which she was sitting, barely awake.

"So whenever we make a move, we have to drink out of that straw?" asked Laura for confirmation, nodding toward a giant bowl of liquid. It definitely seemed like her idea of a good time.

"Exactly! And whoever is the last one standing on the mat will receive my
special prize
!" Caroline stroked an unmarked package beside her.

"What's in it?"

"Ah now, that would be telling! But let's just say it's very long...and manly...and
very
realistic!" she teased.

Laura, who was pretty sure she knew what it was, clapped her hands enthusiastically. Grace tilted her head back and drained the last of the wine out of her glass.

"Hey, hey, look what I've found!" Nicola was now standing in the doorway of the living room, having returned from the kitchen holding a cocktail sausage in one hand and a packet of balloons in the other.

"Did you enjoy rummaging through my drawers?" asked Caroline, knowing Nicola wouldn't take her remark too seriously.

"Oh, come off it; you love your drawers being rummaged!"

The women on the floor laughed and whistled at Caroline.

"Doesn't she just! How many men has it been now?" asked Megan, who had decided to strap one of the plunge bras from the lingerie box over her t-shirt.

"You be quiet!" Caroline scolded playfully, unable to hide the grin on her face. "And what exactly do you plan on doing with the leftover balloons from my cousin's party?"

"Ooh, ooh, can we blow them up?" pleaded Laura.

Nicola popped the sausage into her mouth and slid into the room, dropping the cocktail stick onto a paper plate on the floor. She took her time opening the packet as she swayed her hips from side to side, offering some unusual balloon-inspired mock strip tease to the rest of the room. She reached into the bag, wiggled her fingers around, and thrust something pink toward the ceiling.

"Do you know what this is?"

"A balloon?" Laura responded, giddily.

"No, my innocent friend, this is not just a balloon!" Nicola drew the opening to her lips and pulled it apart slightly. She began to blow into it, and continued to blow until the limp object had grown into something much longer. Once it was full enough, she tied a knot at the end and balanced it in the palm of her hand.

"Now can you see what it is?"

"It's a penis!" screamed Julie, who seemed to have woken up from her nap at the perfect moment.

"She's right! It is a penis!" Laura continued to clap, her energy ceaseless.

"But it doesn't even look—"

"Oh, come off it, Grace. Stop being such a prude! It's just a bit of fun," remarked Harriet, who leapt to her feet, suddenly enjoying herself.

Caroline grabbed the balloon and held onto it between her legs. She positioned her other hand behind her head and began thrusting her hips back and forth. Her audience erupted in laughter.

"You're so good at that!" Laura squeaked.

Nicola was too busy blowing up a rounded balloon to watch Caroline, and Megan was drawing a nipple onto another balloon with a marker pen. But Grace could see this display perfectly well, and how deeply she wished she couldn't. She just didn't understand it. And where had the wine disappeared to? Her glass was looking sorely empty.

"What are we, ladies?"

Julie burped.

"That's not quite what I was going for, but thank you, Julie!"

"What are we then, Caroline? Tell us, tell us!"

Grace started to wonder whether it was just the endless supply of shots that was making Laura behave like an idiot, or if it was actually the way she always acted. She hoped, for Laura's sake, that it was the former as she watched her jump up and down enthusiastically with no detriment to the flat chest she concealed behind the cartoon mouth that stretched across the petite front of her t-shirt.

"I'll tell you!" Caroline continued. "We, my good friends, are
modern women
!"

More cheers came from the crowd.

"And do you know
why
we're modern women?"

"Why are we modern women, Caroline?" It was Laura again, who, Grace was convinced, had started to believe she was attending a pantomime.

"Because none of us let men tell us what to do! They don't get to boss us around. We don't have to behave like we were put on this earth to do their dirty work! We get to have complete control of our own lives and our own money," she continued thrusting with the balloon, "and you know what the best part is?"

"What?"

"We don't have anything hideous dangling between our legs!"

Grace thought Laura was going to wet herself as she proceeded to roll around on the floor in hysterics. It was definitely time to find the wine.

"Here, let me have a go!" shouted Harriet across the noise, gesturing for Caroline to pass the balloon.

Grace stood up and steadied herself on her feet before thinking about approaching the kitchen to find another bottle.

Just as Caroline launched the object into the air, Grace took a step forward. The phallic balloon skimmed the top of Grace's head as it flew toward Harriet. There was nothing Grace could do but ignore the scene behind her as the balloon began making its way around the room.

As she stood in the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of water and gulped it down. She was hot, dehydrated, and struggling to keep her headache at bay. Her mind was throbbing as she tried to push away the thoughts.

It was no use. Neither silk nightgowns nor adult bunnies were ever going to be enough of a distraction to hold her attention. And she couldn't stop thinking about that letter.

When she'd awoken on the morning of the lingerie party, the autumnal sun had bled through the gap in the curtains, forcing her awake. She'd pulled herself up until she was propped against the pillows, rubbing her head. She'd had the most peculiar dream.

At least, that's what she'd thought it had been.

It was only when she rolled over to check the time, remembering she had a lot to do that day before she and Harriet were due to arrive at Caroline's, that she saw it lying on the bedside table.

The letter was still folded so that her name on the front was facing toward the ceiling. Grace rubbed furiously at her eyes, wishing it to go away. But it was still there when she opened them again. She reached out a trembling hand from under the warmth of the blanket and picked it up. It was just as she remembered it.

Grace did not understand how the letter had made its way into her bedroom. Now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember how she'd gotten into bed. The last thing she could recall was crossing through the door and hearing it bang behind her. She'd been certain it was a dream once she'd woken.

But even if the letter wasn't enough to convince her otherwise, then the metal key sticking out of the door at the top of the landing would have been enough to change her mind. It baffled her to think that she'd never paid any attention to that cupboard before, and that she hadn't even registered that it was there. But as clear as day, she could now see it. Its presence was undeniable. She hadn't been dreaming.

She'd tried to open in again. She needed to see what was on the other side now that it was broad daylight.

She fought but it wouldn't budge. She'd turned the key both ways, jiggled it about in the lock. It was stuck. It was as if somebody, or something, was refusing to allow her to cross back through to wherever it was she'd been the night before.

They certainly wanted her to remember it though. Why else would the letter have mysteriously made its way to her night stand after she'd dropped it in the ship? But the unusual clothes she'd been wearing—the tan bodice and the copper skirt—were nowhere to be seen. She was once again wearing her pink pyjamas with the little clouds. The words inside the letter were her only hope if she was ever going to find out what had happened.

But she didn't read it. It wasn't the case that she didn't
want
to read it. It was just the case that every time she tried to take a moment to sit down and decipher it, something got in the way. When Harriet came up the stairs she'd stuffed the letter away out of sight, as she knew she couldn't risk anybody else finding out about it. And when Harriet walked straight past the door without acknowledging it, it didn't help to reassure Grace that she wasn't just going crazy. She was starting to fear what she didn't understand. Perhaps it would be best if she forgot all about the door and the letter and the ship.

Perhaps if she ignored everything, then maybe it would all go away.

It turned out she was wrong. Her method had lasted until the gathering that evening, but she had to admit the fact that it could be ignored no more. As Caroline entered the kitchen clutching a nurse's outfit made of PVC that she was most definitely going to squeeze into, Grace confirmed to herself that, no matter what happened, she would read that letter tomorrow and find out exactly what was going on. It was the only way her mind would ever be able to rest.

She gulped down another mouthful of water and shuffled her way back into the living room, just in time to see Julie lift up her top and wedge the balloon between her breasts. Maybe the letter wasn't so bad a distraction after all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

F
ran picked at the top of the muffin, flicking the bits of blueberry mindlessly. So far, her morning hadn't been great. The drain in her flat had decided to clog, the fuse had blown on her hair dryer, and just because things always seemed to happen in threes, she'd broken one of her nails when she opened her car door on the way to work. It wouldn't have been so bad if she hadn't just had them manicured. Not even a freshly-baked muffin from the coffee shop down the street was working to cheer her up.

She scrolled through her emails, looking for something to occupy her mind. There were a few messages Grace had forwarded to her, but nothing exciting.

What was Grace's problem, anyway? If Fran decided to walk around in outfits she'd clearly had for what must be at least a decade, she'd probably wish for the ground to swallow her whole. And whatever she did to her hair in the mornings—scraping it back like that—did absolutely nothing to frame her face. She needed layers or something, anything to make her look less plain.

Yes, Fran was most certainly pleased she did not look like Grace.

But Grace didn't have to spend every single day of her life giving in to Mr Barrie's demands, did she? Grace wasn't the one who was expected to bring his coffee every morning. Grace didn't have to pretend to be grateful for the expensive jewellery he threw her way when really he was bestowing bribes. And it wasn't Grace who had to unfasten the button on his trousers with her teeth when everybody else had left the office to go home. It wasn't Grace's job on the line if she refused to give Mr Barrie exactly what he wanted, was it?