Dying For Space

by S. J. Higbee

  Irena scooped up the wig, giving it a shake. “The fuse-wit who stuffed this into the box needs a good kicking, for starters. I’ll comb it through for you.” Crossing the room, she added, “Raquel and Kareen, sort out Liz’s make-up. Vera, you hang the dress up and make sure all those folds are trim. Then help Liz into it. She’s liable to put it on back to front, left to herself.”

  Their friendly laughter thawed my frozen panic. I would be alright. My training mates would make sure of it and Norman would be so very proud…

  The girls had me ready in time to teeter to the Banqueting Hall. Irena and Raquel accompanied me to the lifts, making sure the trailing skirt was draped over my arm so as I laboured along the corridor, it didn’t drag along the floor and catch in my heels.

  Irena gave me a friendly punch as the lift door swished open, ready to swallow me up. “Luck, Liz.”

  My stomach lurched with more than the ear-popping drop when the doors parted again.

  A beautiful fair-skinned, green-eyed woman was pacing up and down the sumptuous hallway. “Good evening, my dear. I’m Fina Giftstar—” Her fine eyes widened as she took in my appearance.

  “Good evening, Miss Giftstar. Elizabeth N-Norman at your service.” I stepped out of the lift, stifling my urge to salute. I knew about Fina, of course. Everyone at Restormel did. Norman’s long-term companion, she acted as official hostess for all his social occasions now Mrs Norman was dead, although she’d been around a deal longer than that.

  She was still staring at me as if I’d sprouted horns and a tail.

  As I smoothed the heavy folds bagging across my stomach, she flinched. Doubt began squirming in my gut. “Is… it alright?”

  Her smile was as tight as her grip on my arm. “Tell you what, Elizabeth, let’s visit the Ladies Room, shall we?”

  It was a struggle to keep my balance in those instruments of torture as she hustled me along thickly carpeted corridors, jabbing the door open and pushing me inside.

  “Stay here! I’ll be back.” She rushed out.

  I perched on the upholstered bench seat, trying to avoid my reflection in the mirrors. It was now 20.10 hrs and Norman had views on lateness. Unable to pace due to my blistered feet, I continued to fidget for a very long ten minutes.

  Until I heard Norman’s voice boom through the closed door. “If this is some female nonsense, Fina, you’ll be wishing that—”

  “Don’t. Go there.” Miss Giftstar sounded equally aggravated. “You should be thanking me on your knees for not bringing her to your fancy banquet looking like some station stray in fancy dress.”

  “You exaggerate, woman! She’s a pretty girl. It’s a beautiful gown. How bad could it be?”

  “Oh, I agree. She’s the potential to be a real beauty. Which is why it’s a crime to make her look so ridiculous—”

  Holed heavens – has she got a death wish?

  As if she heard my thoughts, she caught herself. “Doesn’t matter how it happened, love. What we need is to fix it. Fast.”

  “Still reckon you’re making a supernova out of a sunspot,” Norman’s voice magnified abruptly as he barrelled through the door.

  I shot to my feet, wincing at the stabbing spots of agony where the shoes pinched. “Hallo, Father.”

  Miss Giftstar had followed him into the room, her expression grimly satisfied. “See?”

  His brows knotted into a frown. “How’s she blixed it up, then? This dress – it was a triumph. It looked magnificent on...”

  Doubtless he’d seen some big-bosomed beauty wiggling her curvy attributes along a virtual catwalk and assumed it would suit me. I gritted my teeth and stood to attention, wishing I was back in the barracks, cleaning my kit. He’ll shed me faster than a tachy-blink anyhow if I can’t pass muster with his precious guests.

  Meantime Miss Giftstar was holding Norman’s arm and gabbling, “The colour’s all wrong, for starters. Washes her out. And those frills and pleats are designed to flatter a-a fuller figure. All they do is emphasise that she is slightly built. And as for the make-up, don’t worry. I can fix—”

  Norman, scowling at me, cut across her, “Dreg it, Elizabeth! Stop looking like you’re about to be shot.”

  Convinced I was about to be flushed away, I’d had enough. “Oh, yes please. Shoot me. Anything – hot pincers included – has got to be more fun than dragging around in something that makes me look like something spat up from a black hole.” I glared at him with hands on hips. Before the hard reality of my situation hit me like a rock on the head. This is it. He’ll tell me to pack. And I’ve nowhere to go.

  Norman threw back his head, roaring with laughter, before finally wheezing, “Ah, there’s your Mum’s temper.”

  Behind his back, Miss Giftstar winked and gave me the ‘OK’ handsig.

  Relief rolling through me, I was busy trying not to buckle at the knees. Norman wasn’t about to kick me out, after all. And Miss Giftstar was on my side. She’s only saying those hurtful things about my appearance because she wants me looking my best. Doesn’t she?

  She glided across the room to me, linking her arm through mine. “Give us another half hour, William. I’ll make your girl a fairy princess. There’s… other dresses I’ve put by,” she said softly as they exchanged an odd, suffering look.

  What’s going on? There’s something here I’m missing. Besides, I’d long since grown out’ve any notion I’d be suitable princess material. As if to prove it, I tripped over the wretched hem, while hobbling alongside Fina.

  “And why are you staggering about like a newbie in a minefield?” snapped Norman

  “The shoes are too small.” I levered them off my feet with a wince.

  He jammed a cigar in his mouth, looking sour enough to curdle vinegar. “Too skinny with big feet...”

  I held my breath, waiting for his flickoff.

  “...how come she’s so easy on the eye in those combat fatigues, then?”

  I let the breath go. So help me, when I’m finally in charge of my life, I’ll make people very sorry if they go on talking about me as if I was a piece of furniture.

  Fina Giftstar’s giggle took ten years off her. “You’re also easy on the eye, love. But you wouldn’t look your desirable best in an all-in-one leather skinsuit.”

  I kept my face blank, busy not imagining Norman slinking around in the latest trendedge outfit favoured by fashmad young officers when off-duty.

  Norman’s grunt wasn’t amused. “Careful where you aim that humour, woman. This evening is important. Make a fool of me and you’ll be sorry.”

  She drew herself up. “No need to threaten me, William. If I’d wanted this evening to head hellwards, all I had to do was keep quiet.”

  I blinked. She’d been beautiful in a restrained well-bred way, but temper ignited her looks making her glow and now I understood why Norman was so attracted to her.

  “Come on, my dear.” Tightening her grip on my arm, Fina whisked by him and out into the hallway. We sped down the corridor at a quick march, before wheeling into her bedroom, past the guards outside her door, who opened her door as we approached.

  My jaw dropped at the sheer size of the room, furnished in shades of lilac. It seemed to stretch on forever, an effect amplified by the mirrored walls. Fina Giftstar darted towards a row of doors lining the long wall, flinging them open and muttering under her breath. Grabbing an armful of dresses, she turned back to me. “Flaming Mercury, girl! You know what he’s like when things don’t go according to plan. Get yourself out of that wretched rag yesterday!”

  I fumbled with the fastenings, wishing the thing had been fitted with easi-snug clips.

  “Hurry up! We’ll still be here come Christmas.” She started yanking at the back of the dress, “Thought all you English girlies learnt how to turn yourselves into eye candy at your Mums’ knees.”

  Not if Mum was an ex-merc officer, pregnant with the General’s bastard and married off to the nearest handy bloke.

  I gratefully stepped out of the dre
ss as it pooled in a purple heap on the pastel carpet. Staring at my scrawniness with a slight frown, she prowled around me, kicking Norman’s magnificent garment out of her way like it was a used nosewipe. She grabbed a pale pink dress from the frothy, multi-coloured bundle on the bed and holding it up against me, she nodded.

  I wasn’t convinced. It was plain, with a simple scooped neck and straight, three-quarter length sleeves.

  “Come on. We’ve a lot to do and not much time.” However, she was far gentler as she slipped the dressed over my head and clipped the easi-snug fittings together.

  The dress shrank – and then stopped. Still too big.

  I stared at my reflection in horror. “Mother Earth above, he’ll be so angry.”

  Miss Giftstar hadn’t finished. “Turn around – there. That’s it... No, stand still, why don’t you?” She was fiddling with-

  “That’s Tuf-Tape!” Mum used the stuff as a universal fix-it around the house when the Cap was away. Or used to. Don’t know what she does, now. Haven’t heard from any of them since... Wonder how the boys are? I stamped on that thought. Hard. I had other worries to contend with. For instance, Miss Giftstar, here, was taping me into this dress.

  “Never go anywhere without a roll. Surely your Mum taught you that trick?”

  “Of course,” I lied, wishing she’d drop the subject of Mum.

  “Now you’ll have to be careful. Any sudden movement and you’ll come apart.” Her face lit up. “I know – we’ll say you’re late because you injured your ankle in a training mishap this afternoon. That’ll also prevent you from dancing.”

  Dancing? I stared at her. “I can’t dance.”

  She almost rolled her eyes. “I know! You’ll have to sit still, just for this evening.”

  “No. I cannot dance because I’ve never learnt.”

  “Really? Does William know this?”

  I shrugged. He used to turn up on the doorstep once or twice a year, bringing presents for me. Singling me out. But we never danced. Why would we? My parents tip-toed around him as if he were Lord God, himself.

  Miss Giftstar rootled through another cupboard and surfaced clutching a simple, shoulder-length wig. As soon as she pulled it over my regulation buzzcut, I realised it suited me far more than the elaborate style of the other hairpiece. Next, she went to work on my make-up. In no time flat, she was replacing Raquel’s silver-swirled lash extenders and glo-shimmer lip varnish with far more sedate shades, so that the lip colour now matched my dress. A pity. I’d majorly liked the trendedge look Raquel had given me. Particularly the fact that it completely camouflaged my face.

  She finally closed the applicator with a snap and flicked a bandage at me. “Pull that on. Don’t worry it’s a blank – not seeded with anything. But we’ll say it’s treating a sprain.” She darted across into her cupboards once more, hauling out a lacy shawl. “Let’s put that round you. It’ll hide the tucks I’ve made in the back of the dress. Oh, and here. Some shoes you can walk in.”

  With the bandage over the worst of my blisters, the soft slippers were almost as comfy as my combat boots. She spun me round in front of the mirror. I stared at the girl in the reflection, who looked more like me, but a lot prettier.

  I recalled Wynn’s voice from another lifetime ago. Gods, but you’re lovely.

  Blinking hard, I whirled away from the mirror and headed for the door. Mostly, I coped with the pain of his death. But there were times when longing for him would flare white-hot and scalding.

  “Elizabeth, what’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”

  I tried to fix the wobble in my voice, “Thank you, Miss Giftstar. You’ve achieved a miracle.”

  “I haven’t, you know.” Her voice was warm with kindness. “You’re a beautiful girl. You just need to make the best of yourself. And please, call me Fina.”

  “Thank you... Fina.” Still struggling to box my grief for Wynn, I didn’t say anything more, thankful the walk along the corridors to the banqueting room gave me space to haul myself together.

  Fina was also quiet, probably disgusted with my poor manners. But if my life depended upon it just then, I couldn’t have said any more. Busy trying to forget his sun-bright hair, Earth-blue eyes, his crooked grin and the easy, loose-limbed way he moved.

  Digging my nails into my palms, I finally managed to pull away from the heart-shredding memories. “I appreciate all your efforts. Really I do.”

  Her look was searching. “You don’t have to be grateful all the time, you know.”

  Oh yes, I do.

  “I know you’ve had a rough time of it. But William is determined to make it right for you and you know him.” Fina’s laugh was affectionate. “He sets his mind on something, it usually gets done. And I happen to know that you’re right up there. At the top of his priority list. Just relax and start enjoying life.”

  My stomach knotted at the notion that I was on anyone’s priority list, never mind Norman’s. I was hoping that while he’d been away, he’d decided that placing me in his Cadet Officer Training Corps was sufficient payback for having sired me and he’d now leave me alone.

  Fina drew ahead as the corridor widened out into an antechamber. Music trickled out from behind the carved double wooden doors.

  When the doors hissed open, Norman’s voice rang out, “Ah! Here they are.”

  All conversation ceased as the guests, following Norman’s example, stood up.

  “Hallo, ladies. So glad you could spare the time to join us.” His tone was friendly, but the glitter in his eyes said otherwise.

  Fina didn’t so much as blink. Just walked straight up to him and kissed him on the cheek. “Evening, William. Gentlemen. Apologies for holding up your food, but poor little Elizabeth’s ankle was extremely painful before the medic put a bandage on it. She sprained it on the training circuit this afternoon.” She turned to me, smiling.

  Remembering to limp, I approached the table, rigid with nerves.

  Meanwhile lies continued to drop from Fina’s lips. “She shouldn’t really be here. The medic said she should rest it, but she insisted.” She shook her head at me in mock reproach. “Didn’t want to let her Dad down, she said.”

  Norman moved to my side, all fussy solicitude. “Oh, Lizbeth!” Draping his heavy arm around me, he hauled me to an empty chair. “Are you sure about this?”

  Realising this was my cue, I muttered, “I didn’t want to miss your first night back, Father. Not after you’ve been gone so long.”

  “George,” he boomed in my ear, making me jump. “Could you find a footstool for Elizabeth? It will ease her ankle, I’m sure.”

  I scarcely glanced at Norman’s Number Two, who appeared at the General’s shoulder. We’d been introduced when I first arrived on Restormel, though while Norman had been gone he’d left me in peace to get on with the Officer Training programme. The slim, worn-faced chap smiled and nodded at me when he placed a small embroidered stool by my feet.

  “Please be seated, gentlemen,” Fina’s voice broke through all Norman’s fussing as he almost lifted me into the chair.

  The tape holding my dress together started pulling. I gripped the shawl tightly around my shoulders. Let’s hope all the ad-chat about Tuf-Tape’s amazing strength isn’t just holo-jabber.

  When he finally got me seated, Norman stood over me, his rough fingers stroking my arm. “Ah, it does my heart good to see you, once again. I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart. And looking so lovely.” He laughed as he dabbed his eyes on a huge handkerchief. “See what an old fool, I am? But at least an honest fool. Did I not tell you that she was beautiful?”

  The men sitting around the table all murmured agreement. A couple fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable at Norman’s emotion. But the other four were staring at him, openly fascinated. Not a surprise. His vitality crackled around the room, leaching attention from everyone else. Attention wasn’t the only thing that slipped over the event horizon when Norman was around. If you weren’t careful, you found yourself nodding in agr
eement with him, even if you disagreed with everything he was saying. And – this being General Norman – agreeing with him could be nearly as dangerous as disagreeing with him.

  Once I was installed at the table to his satisfaction, Norman made the introductions, while I murmured greetings as names slid past my head, then resumed his own seat and ordered the main course to be brought in. The bloke to the right of me was caught up in conversation with Norman, but seated at my left the dinner guest introduced himself as Derek Pace, Chairman for the Planetary Defence Committee.

  Smiling politely, I murmured how pleased I was to meet him. Unfortunately, he had a droning voice, making it hard to concentrate. Particularly once my steak, served in a red wine sauce, appeared on my plate with a generous serving of vegetables. It was a long light year since I’d hurriedly chewed on some bread and cheese for lunch and my spine was chafing my belly. I did try and eat it slowly. Even put my knife and fork down between mouthfuls. Once or twice. While nodding and mumbling the odd word to Mr Pace, who had lots to say on the importance of educating refugees to be solid citizens. However, I was still the first person at the table to finish my food.

  While waiting for the other diners, I agreed to another glass of wine when the waiter came around with the bottle. A mistake. It had been a long day and I’d spent a slice of the evening being angry and afraid, which is also draining. Mr Pace’s voice was relaxing. It was warm, my stomach was full...

  I jerked my head up. Did I actually fall asleep like Mum used to? Recalling her slack face and bobbing head with horror, I fervently hoped I hadn’t nodded off at Norman’s important dinner. No good hoping he wouldn’t notice if I had, because he noticed everything. It was one of the reasons why he got to be General in the first place. The rest of the meal was a constant battle to stay awake. I pinched my legs... bit my tongue... took deep breaths... tried to engross myself in Mr Pace’s monologue. Though I quickly changed my mind over that one. If I allowed myself to listen to his slow, drawling voice, I’d be snoring on the table in no time flat.