‘Be grateful I didn’t. The day will come when I’ll have plenty of ailments. Are you feeling better now, Lynn?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Lynn shrugged off Tim’s hand. ‘Let’s plan the day ahead.’
Her brother looked at her fixedly. Sure, said his look, you’re space sick. And I’m the man in the Moon.
He managed to intercept Julian as he was leaving his suite, an hour before dinner. Tim’s father was wearing a fashionably cut shirt with a tie, his usual jeans and elegant slippers adorned with the emblem Mimi Kri.
‘You can have a fitting with her if you like,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Mimi has developed a collection for stays in environments with zero gravity and reduced gravitational pull. Great, don’t you think?’ He spun around on his axis. ‘Fibre-reinforced, so nothing can flap around. Not even the tie.’
‘Julian, listen—’
‘Oh, before I forget, she brought something along for Amber too. An evening dress. I wanted to surprise her with it, but you can see how much is going on at the moment. I’m not getting a moment’s peace with this mob around. Everything okay, my boy?’
‘No. I have to—’
‘Evening clothes in zero gravity, just think!’ Julian grinned. ‘Isn’t it crazy? Absolutely insane! You could look up all the skirts without these reinforcements. Marilyn Monroe would have stayed just a forgotten orphan, instead of standing on that air-shaft with the wind gusting up from below and everything blowing up, you know.’
‘No, I don’t, actually.’
Julian wrinkled his forehead. He seemed to notice Tim at last, taking in his crumpled overall and flushed face, which didn’t seem to bode well.
‘You’ve probably never heard of the film, right?’
‘Father, I don’t give a toss whose skirt is flying up. Try taking care of your daughter for a change, will you?’
‘I do. And have done ever since she was born, to be precise.’
‘Lynn isn’t well.’
‘Oh, that.’ Julian looked at the time. ‘Yes, she told me. Are you coming along to Kirk with me?’
‘Told you about what?’ asked Tim, confused.
‘That she got space sick.’ Julian laughed. ‘Although she never has been till now. That would annoy me too!’
‘No, wait.’ Tim shook his head impatiently. ‘You don’t understand. Lynn isn’t space sick.’
‘So what is it then?’
‘She’s overstretched. On the brink of a nervous breakdown.’
‘I can understand that you’re concerned, but…’
‘She shouldn’t even be here, Dad! She’s falling apart. For God’s sake, how often do I need to tell you? Lynn is at the end of her tether. She won’t make it. She’s never really dealt with what happened five years ago—’
‘Hey!’ Julian stared at him. ‘Are you crazy? This is her hotel.’
‘And… so what?’
‘It’s her work! Good heavens, Tim! Lynn is CEO of Orley Enterprises, she has to be here.’
‘Has to! Exactly.’
‘Don’t start attacking me! Have I ever forced you to do anything? Did I ever stop you from becoming a teacher and going into your shitty community politics, even though all the doors were open for you at Orley?’
‘That’s not what this is about.’
‘It never is, right? Nor is it ever about the fact that your sister is more successful than you and that, secretly, it annoys the hell out of you.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘Too right. Lynn has no problems whatsoever. But you do! You try to make her out to be weak because you haven’t sorted yourself out.’
‘That has to be the most ridiculous nonsense I’ve ever—’ Tim forced himself to calm down and lower his voice. ‘As far as I’m concerned you can believe what you like, I don’t care. Just look out for her! Don’t you remember what happened five years ago?’
‘Of course I do. She was exhausted back then. If you had her workload, you’d—’
‘No, Julian, she wasn’t exhausted. She was burnt out. She was ill, psychologically ill, will you ever get that into your head? Severe depression! A suicide risk!’
Julian looked around as if the walls had ears.
‘Now listen to me, Tim,’ he whispered. ‘Lynn worked hard for all of this. People admire and adore her. This is her big moment. I won’t allow you to mess everything up for her just because you’re seeing ghosts everywhere.’
‘God, you don’t have a clue what’s going on, it’s unbelievable! So stupid!’
‘No, you’re the one who’s stupid. Why did you even come?’
‘To look after her.’
‘Oh.’ Julian let out a mocking laugh. ‘And I thought it might have had something to do with me, just a tiny bit. My apologies for the descent into sentimentality. I’ll speak with her, okay? I’ll tell her what a great job she did of everything, that it’s perfect, that everyone thinks she’s wonderful. Okay?’
Tim stayed silent as Julian, clearly annoyed, floated off towards the airlock. O’Keefe was approaching from the other side.
‘Hey, Tim.’
‘Finn. All good?’
‘Great, thanks. Are you coming to Picard for a drink?’
‘No, I’ll see you later at dinner.’ Tim thought for a moment. ‘I need something fibre-reinforced. A fibre-reinforced tie. You can’t do anything around here without fibre reinforcement.’
The Soirée
The man with the multicoloured eyes was very interested in the art of cooking steaks 36,000 kilometres above the Earth, so that they were sizzling and brown on the outside and pink on the inside, and all without a single drop of meat juices running out.
And he wanted to know what it was that drew mankind to the Moon.
‘Life,’ said Julian. ‘If we find it there, it will fundamentally change our view of the world. I thought you of all people were fascinated by the idea.’
‘And I am. So what do the experts say? Is there life on Mars?’
‘Of course,’ Julian grinned. ‘Spiders.’
‘Spiders from Mars.’ He grinned back. ‘You could do something with that.’
A large number of people from the group, on the other hand, were interested in the man with the multicoloured eyes. Walo Ögi, his greatest admirer, was unfortunately being subjected to a discussion about the economy by Bernard Tautou and Oleg Rogachev, whilst Miranda and Rebecca were deep in discussion, in unfathomable harmony with Momoka Omura, about the therapeutic effect of luxury on Seasonal Affective Disorder. Warren Locatelli was absent. Like Paulette Tautou, he had fallen victim to the combined forces of nervus vagus and diverse neurotransmitters, which, via the area of his brainstem known as the nausea centre, had led to the torrential emptying of his stomach.
This aside, it was a wonderful dinner.
The lights had been dimmed, allowing the Earth to shine through the glass floor like a huge Chinese lantern. For the first and only time, there was alcohoclass="underline" champagne from slender goblets topped with sucking teats. Just like the previous evening, the food was of astonishing quality. Julian had flown in a highly decorated Michelin-starred chef for the duration of the trip, a German from Swabia called Johannes King, who had immediately subjected the kitchen to a three-hundred-per-cent increase in efficiency, conjuring up amazing culinary feats such as truffle-infused creamed vegetables, with genuine Périgord truffles, of course, a dish that had gone through endless tests to ensure it could cope with the perils of zero gravity.
‘Because, obviously, sauce, or anything liquid or creamy, develops a life of its own in zero gravity.’ The chef was just finishing his round of the table. He was an exuberant, lively character with great coordination, and seemed to take to weightlessness like a fish to water. ‘Unless its consistency is created in such a way that it sticks to the fish or vegetables. But if it’s too concentrated it will impair the taste, so it’s a real balancing act.’