And so saying, the Gat let swing the be-ribboned bottle of French champagne* so that it smashed into the bows of the ship. At the same moment, the minor official pulled a cord and the sheeting that hitherto had covered the great Starship fell to the ground in a gentle cascade of pink silk.
– – – – – –
* It may seem odd that a civilization that had never even heard of the planet Earth and certainly had no idea of its existence should use French champagne for such an occasion. The explanation is rather complicated and involves a lot of stuff about time-warps and Black Holes and an Inter-Galactic Smuggling Ring. If were you I simply wouldn’t worry about it and just get on with the story.
– – – – – –
There was a gasp from the multitude. Even a people used to the sight of great Starships had never before witnessed one of such vast structure, such flawless design.
‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ sighed countless male Starship spotters, scanning their bino-scopes over the hull for the registration number.
‘Your mummy built that…’ murmured countless unmarried teenage mothers to their infants.
‘It’s a triumph!’ exclaimed the Head Reporter, suddenly remembering what his script had written down for this point.
There was a ghostly roar, as if of seas beating on a distant shore that lies beyond the horizon of thought, as hugely, magnificently, the fabulous ship eased its way forward from its construction dock. It then picked up speed, swayed a bit, wobbled a bit, veered wildly and, just as the crowd were about to scream out in disbelieving terror, it vanished. Just like that. It had undergone what was about to become famous as SMEF (Spontaneous Massive Existence Failure).
In just ten seconds, the whole, stupendous enterprise was over.
8
‘We’re going to put the bathroom here and the door over there,’ said Dan.
‘It’s terrific,’ said Nettie. ‘But I thought the bathroom was going to be there and the door was going to be over here?’ said Lucy.
Why did he always get it so wrong? Dan always made the effort and yet – no matter how hard he tried – the things he and Lucy had discussed only the day before entirely eluded him or came out all garbled.
‘That’s what I meant,’ said Dan.
‘It’s terrific,’ said Nettle. ‘But, I have to tell you something…’
She was interrupted by Nigel, who was sniffing around the cellar. ‘You can smell the centuries of vinous pleasure oozing from the very brickwork!’ he shouted up.
‘The place is only a hundred and eighty years old!’ Lucy shouted back down.
‘It was built as a rectory,’ Dan murmured to Nettie.
‘Mmm, terrific,’ said Nettle. ‘But, look, Dan…’
‘You’re not kidding!’ Dan felt the enthusiasm welling up from deep inside him the way it always did when he needed it to. ‘We’re going to have the restaurant here, on the right as you come in – not your nouvelle cuisine but state-of-the-art Californian. And here there’ll be a bar.’
Lucy gave him a withering look, but mercifully she didn’t correct him. Oh yes – now he remembered – the restaurant was going to be on the left; it had started off on the right, then they’d changed it to the left, then they’d changed it back to the right again, but then Lucy had pointed out that the kitchen would be better on the other side so they’d gone back to the left. How the hell was he supposed to remember anyway?
‘Terrific,’ said Nettie. ‘But look…’ Her voice trailed off as Nigel reappeared. Nettle looked adorable in her simple Gap T-shirt that didn’t quite cover her midriff and hand-knitted waistcoat. Nigel put his arm round her.
‘Like what you see?’ he asked.
‘Mmmm,’ said Dan.
‘I mean the house,’ said Nigel. Dan couldn’t stand that effortless, slimy superiority that his business partner could turn on and off like a hosepipe of cold water. No wait a minute! Make that ‘a business partner’. The Top Ten Travel Company was no more. They had just sold it for what seemed to Dan a ridiculously satisfactory amount of money.
‘It’s just what Lucy and I have always dreamed of, isn’t it, Buttercup?’ Dan said. Lucy hated it when he called her pet names in public, but she had never told him, so she blamed herself. She could see he thought she liked it, and the minor deception had been going on for so long now that she couldn’t see how she could possibly tell him. How long had they been together? It must be all of thirteen years – in fact since the very early days of the Top Ten Travel Co., when Nigel had chatted her up in a bar in Santa Monica and introduced her to his business partner.