by Lisa Tuttle
Rose couldn’t bear the anguish in his voice. ‘Orson, he was, he is! Roberto is your friend!’
‘Some way he has of showing it! Stop trying to make me feel better, Rose. I know he’s your brother, but—’
‘No, he’s not. I mean, of course Simon’s my brother. But Simon’s not Roberto. Not your Roberto. I am. I always was.’ She sighed shakily and stared straight ahead at the dark road unfurling before them. ‘I’m sorry, I know I should have told you before. But it got more complicated when Olivia told me she was in love with this guy Roberto she’d met on the Net. I had no idea Simon was using the same name elsewhere that I was using in Illyria – and she was going crazy trying to work out why this guy who was so warm and affectionate when they met for a chat acted like he didn’t know her from Eve in Illyria – anyway, if I couldn’t tell Olivia, I couldn’t tell you, either. So I just pretended I was Simon, and got him to agree to the pretence while he was here.’ Rose stopped. Then, when Orson didn’t say anything, added, ‘I’m sorry,’ aware of how pathetic it sounded.
‘So – let me get this straight – it was always you I was meeting and talking to? Not sometimes you, sometimes Simon – the Roberto and Ro I thought I knew was really you?’
Rose nodded, cleared her throat. ‘Yes. Simon only went to Illyria once, when he met the CyberQueen. I think’ – suddenly the piece clicked into place in her mind – ‘I think it must have been Malcolm who told him about Illyria, and gave him the access code. He thought Malcolm was this terrific hacker pal of his.’
‘Funny how wrong you can be about the people you meet on the Net.’
Rose’s heart plunged. He wasn’t going to forgive her. She bit her lip to keep back the tears. A few more dark miles passed in silence and then she saw the sign with the picture of Twin Oaks which indicated their turn-off.
‘I was just wondering,’ said Orson as he made the turn. ‘What did you expect to happen after Simon left? Did you think we’d go back to being Net-friends as if the visit had never happened?’
‘I was going to tell you the truth – really, I was – and let you decide if it was all over or if … if you thought we could go back to being friends again.’
‘I get to decide, huh? Well, I might need to think, if those are the only two options – hey, what’s this?’ Headlights blazed at them; the road was narrow, and he had to pull over sharply to let the other car past. It was the police car, already going back to town. Rose thought she glimpsed someone in the back seat but she couldn’t be sure.
‘Well, whatever happened, it must be over now,’ said Orson. Rose clutched the edge of her seat, glad they didn’t have much farther to go.
In front of the big house there was a scattering of formally-dressed people gathered in clumps discussing whatever the excitement had been. Among them Rose quickly picked out Olivia and Simon, both looking rumpled and somewhat the worse for wear. Olivia’s hair had spilled out of its careful arrangement, and Simon’s jacket was torn at the sleeve. Rose leaped out of the car as soon as Orson had stopped, gathered up her heavy, elaborate skirt, and ran as fast as she could in her high heels across the gravelled drive to meet them.
‘Are you all right? Both of you? What happened?’
Olivia grinned. Her make-up was smudged and her hair a mess, but she was glowing, happy and confident, as beautiful as Rose had ever seen her. ‘All is well,’ she said, laughing a little. ‘Good has triumphed over evil, and the police have taken that nasty little toad into custody.’
‘Olivia was brilliant,’ said Simon. ‘She sat on him until the police got here!’
Rose noticed then that Simon’s lip was swollen and there were flecks of blood on his white shirt-front. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘I’m fine. He hit me, but he didn’t break anything. I just cut my lip a little.’
‘I saved him,’ said Olivia, smiling at him. Simon put his arms around her and hugged her enthusiastically. ‘You sure did, sweetheart. What a warrior! Amazon woman! She flipped him over and pinned him to the ground in about two seconds flat. He couldn’t move.’
‘Not until I let him,’ Olivia agreed. ‘Then, when I let him up, he took a swing at one of the cops. Bad move! You don’t try to beat up the cops!’
‘But what happened?’ Rose demanded. She was aware of Orson standing close behind her now. ‘What started the fight?’
‘He did,’ said Olivia, nuzzling Simon’s neck. ‘This sweet little boy here was trying to defend my honour.’
Simon frowned. ‘Malcolm was getting heavy.’
‘I was handling it,’ said Olivia.
‘He was getting really offensive. I couldn’t stand watching him any longer. So I told him where to get off, and then he said something rude—’
‘And you said something ruder.’
‘And then he let go of you – not before time! – and came swinging at me, managed to connect with my face – and then Olivia took charge.’
‘Wow,’ said Orson. ‘I’m sorry we missed it.’
‘Yeah, the excitement’s over for tonight,’ said Olivia. ‘But the dance goes on. Y’all might as well go on in and dance – take our tickets if you want, although I don’t think they’re bothering to check anymore. The entire Granny Mafia is in a state of shock, and the footmen are having to fan them and fetch hot toddies and smelling salts and other restorative potions.’
‘What about you?’ asked Rose. ‘Aren’t you coming inside?’
‘Oh, I don’t think so. I think we’re both kind of persona non grata at the moment. That fight has got to be the most scandalous thing to happen at the Midwinter Ball in years; maybe ever! So we’re lying low.’
‘It’s awfully cold out here,’ said Rose, and then wished she hadn’t, for the sake of Orson’s sensibilities, because at her words Olivia and Simon simply snuggled closer together, beaming with ridiculously smug satisfaction as Simon murmured, ‘Oh, I think we’ll manage to find some way to keep warm.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ said Orson. To Rose’s surprise, he didn’t sound bothered. Instead, he slipped an arm around her waist and drew her away. ‘And so will we. Come along, Miss Rose; the least you can do is dance with your partner.’
There was one red-liveried servant at the door, and he didn’t ask for invitations, but simply bowed and opened the door to them after a cursory glance.
‘Probably just glad we’re not carrying weapons,’ said Orson cheerfully.
There was a waltz beginning, and Orson and Rose were soon whirling around the ballroom. For a few moments they danced without speaking, and Rose couldn’t quite bring herself to meet his eyes.
‘Rose,’ he said.
She gave in. Their eyes met. He looked, she thought, faintly apprehensive. Her heart thudded.
‘When you said it would be my decision did you mean … were those the only two options I had to choose from?’
‘What?’
‘I mean, I’ve thought about it, and I definitely don’t want to go back to things as they were. I don’t want to be Roberto’s friend anymore.’
Her heart sank, but his arm tightened around her. ‘I mean I like you better, Rose. Better than Roberto. Better than Simon. Better than Olivia. Better, I think, than anyone I’ve ever known. And you know what? I think I like real life better than cyberspace.’
Her heart began to pound again. ‘But why? You can do anything in cyberspace.’
‘No, you can’t. Not everything. If we were on-line right now I could talk about kissing you, but I couldn’t really, really kiss you. Not the way I want to.’
He was grinning. She grinned back, getting that familiar, tingling sensation she’d sometimes had on-line, the feeling that their minds were linked, and she could feel what he was feeling.
‘But you can’t kiss me here, either. Not in the middle of the ballroom at the Midwinter Ball. Things like that don’t happen here.’
‘Never?’
‘Not according to my gran. Never. Well, hardly ever.’
As one, they stopped dancing,
and kissed.
Eventually, one of the footmen came over and asked them politely to please leave the ballroom. Neither of them was the least bit sorry or properly embarrassed. The Granny Mafia was scandalized all over again, and Rose knew she would hear all about it the next day, but she didn’t care. After all, it was only the second most scandalous thing to have happened at the Midwinter Ball that year. All good love stories end with a kiss. And what good was a ball without a romantic, fairytale ending?
