Starclimber

by Kenneth Oppel

  I cleared my throat. “She’s already been invited on the expedition.”

  My mother’s eyes flashed. Even though I hadn’t been home much in the last five years, it was a look I remembered well enough.

  “Is it her you’re doing this foolish thing for?” she demanded.

  “It’s awfully romantic!” said Sylvia.

  “I’m going for my own reasons,” I said firmly. “If Kate weren’t going and I had the chance, I’d still go. You mustn’t think she’s dragging me into it, Mom.”

  My mother shook her head. “It’s bad enough you want to make the sky your life; but I don’t see why you want to go embarking on something so treacherous. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you as well.”

  She looked so bereft, I was tempted to say I wouldn’t go. But I didn’t. How could I? What sky sailor, given a chance like this, wouldn’t have grasped it with all his might?

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t want you to worry. And look, even if I’m chosen, the ship’s going to be safe. It’s built by Lunardi, and no one builds better ships.” I turned to the girls to avoid my mother’s hard stare. “There’s going to be lots of famous people aboard, you know.”

  “Will Sarah Bernhardt be going?” asked Sylvia, referring to the actress.

  “No,” I said. “I meant famous scientists.”

  “Oh,” she said, and wrinkled her nose.

  “Of course it’s your decision,” my mother said. She did have a way of making you feel guilty, with those big sad eyes of hers. I wondered if she was doing it on purpose. Kate had taught me about the things women could do to show their disapproval.

  “If I get chosen,” I said gently, “I’ll need your consent. Mr. Lunardi won’t take me on without it.”

  Mom hesitated a moment and then said firmly, “You’ll have my consent.”

  I blew out a breath. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “How long is the training?” Sylvia asked.

  “Just two weeks.”

  “Two weeks staying with us!” said Isabel.

  “Well, no,” I said, hating to see her face fall. “I’m here for the weekend, but then I’ve got to stay at the training facility. I'm not allowed to tell you where it is. They won’t even let us off the compound, except Sundays. So I’ll come see you then.”

  “When you’re not off with your sweetheart, you mean,” said Sylvia.

  I gave her a stern look. “Kate and I are just good friends. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use terms like ‘sweetheart.’”

  “He’s madly in love with her,” Sylvia told Isabel.

  “Is he?” Isabel asked.

  “It’s so obvious.”

  “Girls, show some consideration, please.” But my mother was looking at me, every bit as unconvinced and amused as my sisters.

  “When will we meet her?” asked Isabel.

  “Well—”

  “Your Kate’s already taken care of that,” said my mother. “This arrived earlier today.”

  From the sideboard, she handed me a thick cream card with a gold border. Script swirled elegantly across the front:

  Mr. and Mrs. Charles de Vries request the pleasure of your company at their twelfth annual Summer Garden Fête.

  Kate hadn’t mentioned anything to me about a garden party, but she’d obviously convinced her parents to put us on their invitation list.

  “It’s this Sunday!” said Isabel.

  “I can wear my new shoes!” said Sylvia. “They’re perfect for summer.”

  “I don’t know what I’ll wear,” said Isabel with a little puff that would have done justice to a Parisian socialite.

  “I’m not sure we should all go,” said Mom.

  “What?” cried Sylvia.

  “It’s very kind of the de Vrieses to invite us,” said my mother, “but we hardly move in the same circles. I’m just not sure we’d feel comfortable.”

  I was worried about the same thing. I wished Kate had told me she was planning this. I had an idea what her parents were like, and I wasn’t sure they’d be thrilled to be rubbing shoulders with a seamstress and her children. I didn’t like to think of my mother being snubbed. Kate had never really understood the divide between our worlds. She just thought the divisions were silly.

  “I want to go!” said Izzie.

  “Mother, if they’ve invited us,” said Sylvia carefully, “isn’t it rude not to go?” She turned to me. “Wouldn’t Kate be hurt, Matt?”

  I chuckled at her persistence. “I know she’d be very disappointed. She really wants to meet you all.”

  “I’m not sure I have anything nice enough to wear,” said Mom.

  I smiled. “I hear you’re handy with a needle and thread.”

  “Well,” said Mom, “it is very nice of Kate’s parents to include us. Mrs. de Vries wrote me that very nice letter, you know, two years back.”

  I remembered it. Mrs. de Vries had told her how grateful she was to me for helping take care of Kate when the Aurora was shipwrecked. And since then, my mother seemed to have a much steadier flow of work from fancy people. I wondered if Kate had had an invisible hand in this, though she’d never mentioned a thing.

  “So we’re going?” Isabel wanted to know.

  “Very well, then, yes, we’re going,” said Mom, a bit reuctantly.

  “Hurray! Shall we take a walk?” Sylvia said. “We’re so close to the beach now!”

  “I think that’s a fine idea,” I agreed.

  THE GARDEN PARTY

  “What a divine house,” said Sylvia as we approached the de Vries mansion.

  “Why are you talking in that fancy voice?” Isabel demanded.

  “This is how I talk.”

  “No it isn’t. You sound all snooty.”

  “You two,” said my mother, in such a way that they both fell silent.

  The mansion was set well back from the tree-lined boulevard, on a hill, which made it look even more impressive. There were more windows than I could count. We walked up the path to the front door, which was flanked by high fluted columns. It was the Sunday of the garden party, and we were all dressed up. I wore my Academy uniform.

  I took hold of the brass lion’s-head knocker and rapped it against the heavy oak door. I’d sooner have been knocking at hell’s gates. I wasn’t at all sure I was ready to meet Kate’s parents.

  “Good afternoon,” the butler said, with a look that let us know he’d never opened this door to us before.

  “The Cruse family,” I said.

  “Of course, sir. Please come straight back. Everyone’s in the garden.”

  It was very strange to walk through the grand house where Kate had grown up. She’d toddled along this marble hallway, and run up and down that grand swirling staircase, and played on this sofa with her dolls—or more likely her microscopes and tweezers and bits of mangled bugs. Thinking of it made me smile as we made our way to the conservatory, where a bank of French doors were flung open to the garden.

  And what a garden it was—vast, with great leafy trees and winding paths and trellises with climbing roses and sunken terraces, and a big gazebo where a string quartet played. Lavish tables of food were set out under a great marquis tent. Uniformed staff circulated with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.

  “How charming,” said Sylvia, as though she’d been to dozens of these.

  The party was well under way, for there must have been hundreds of people here already, the ladies in their white summer dresses, the men in pale linen suits. I stood with my mother and two sisters, as rooted as the chestnut that shaded us. I knew no one.

  “I did that dress,” whispered my mother, surveying the crowd. “That’s Mrs. McKenzie. And that’s Mr. Vanderzalm over there; I altered a suit of his.”

  “Letting out the trousers, I bet,” said Isabel, a little too loudly.

  “Shhh,” I said.

  “Perhaps we shouldn’t have come along, Matt,” said my mother. “No one wants to meet their seamstress at a p
arty. We don’t fit in.”

  “Of course you do,” I said, wanting to reassure her.

  I could see my sisters, especially Sylvia, carefully watching all the other young ladies, taking note of their outfits.

  “You’re all dressed more elegantly than anyone here,” I told the girls quietly. “You can thank our mother for that.”

  “She can do anything,” said Isabel proudly. “I feel utterly fashionable.”

  Across the wide lawn I spotted Miss Simpkins and almost didn’t recognize her, for she was laughing, on the arm of a man. Could this be her Paris beau?

  “That’s Kate’s chaperone,” I said, nodding.

  “Really?” said Isabel. “I thought she’d be an old crone, the way you described her. She looks nice.”

  “Don’t be fooled,” I said.

  “She’s quite striking, you know,” said Sylvia.

  I had to admit, Miss Simpkins did look rather fetching. It wasn’t often I’d seen her smile. Probably she was just happy she wasn’t on another expedition with Kate.

  “Let me get you all some punch,” I said.

  “You’re leaving us?” said Isabel, sounding panicky.

  “I’ll be right back,” I promised. “If anyone comes near you, just scream and run.”

  I walked toward the refreshments tent, where an enormous crystal bowl sparkled with ice and floating berries. As I was filling cups, a very soft voice behind me said, “Well, aren’t you just the most dashing fellow in the garden.”

  I turned to see Kate. She was dressed in a long, white summer dress, with her auburn hair up, little tendrils curling down past her cheekbones. She was utterly beguiling, and I very nearly leaned in to kiss her.

  “Mr. Cruse,” she said in a formal voice, extending her hand, “how nice to see you again. Thank you so much for coming.”

  “Miss de Vries, I’m very pleased to see you,” I said, and politely shook her white-gloved hand.

  Kate’s eyes quickly surveyed our immediate surroundings, making sure no one was close by. “It’s not like Paris anymore,” she whispered. “Do you understand?”

  I nodded. “How much do your parents know about us?”

  “Nothing.”

  I knew this was for the best, but couldn’t help feeling a bit hurt.

  “They know you’re a student at the Airship Academy in Paris,” Kate went on, “and our paths cross from time to time at various society functions.”

  Her eyes were scarcely on me, they were so busy making sure no one would overhear us.

  “And what about salvaging the Hyperion together last year?” I asked.

  She shook her head and smiled. “Forgot to mention it to them.”

  “And Miss Simpkins hasn’t let anything slip?”

  “She’s been good as gold.”

  “So you and I are just acquaintances,” I said.

  “Nothing more.”

  I sighed. “This is going to be difficult.”

  “Just pretend we’re in a play.”

  “Well, there’s always plenty of drama when you’re around.”

  “It is exciting, though, isn’t it?” she whispered. “Pretending we’re practically complete strangers.”

  The way she said it made me blush. “Have you told your parents about outer space?”

  “They know of it.”

  “But have they agreed to let you go?”

  “I have no worries on that count,” she said. She tapped her temple. “I have a plan.”

  We heard a buzz of excitement across the lawn.

  “Ah,” said Kate. “That would be Phase One.”

  Everyone was turning to look at the entrance to the garden, where none other than Otto Lunardi had just arrived, arm in arm with his wife, Anna. The newspapers always described her as statuesque. She wasn’t really very tall, but compared to her husband, she did seem to tower.

  “You invited him, didn’t you?” I said.

  She nodded, beaming. “My parents are terribly impressed by magnates. I asked Mr. Lunardi if he wouldn’t mind popping in. He’s going to put in a good word for me. Look, my mother and father have just latched onto him.”

  I’d only ever seen Kate’s parents in a photograph. They were certainly a fine-looking couple. Mr. de Vries was tall and broad, with a slightly lupine face; Mrs. de Vries was beautiful in a languid way, with heavily lidded eyes and a full, sculpted mouth. Both were smiling and chatting with the Lunardis.

  “This is going very well indeed,” said Kate, watching. “Exactly as planned.”

  “Is there anything you don’t have planned?”

  “A few things,” she said. “Now, we’ve talked long enough. People will start to chatter. Where’s your family?”

  “Over there.”

  I saw her eyes lock onto them. “Take me right over. I must meet them this instant.”

  “Don’t frighten them,” I said.

  “Do I look frightening?”

  “You do look a bit carnivorous.”

  “I’m just enthusiastic!” she protested. “I’ve been looking forward to this for ages.”

  We walked over together, carrying the cups of punch.

  “Mrs. Cruse,” said Kate warmly, “thank you so much for coming. I simply cannot tell you what a pleasure this is!”

  “It’s lovely to finally meet you, Kate,” said my mother, taking her hand.

  My sisters both did pretty curtsies to Kate, and then their eyes widened as she embraced them lightly and kissed them on both cheeks.

  “That’s how they do it in Paris,” she informed them.

  “Is it?” said Isabel with delight.

  “Absolutely. They can’t stop kissing each other.”

  Isabel laughed, but Sylvia looked a bit suspicious.

  “What a pretty garden,” my mother said.

  “Yes, it is nice. It’s also a graveyard, you know,” Kate said to my sisters.

  “A graveyard?” Isabel repeated.

  Kate nodded and lowered her voice. “Not many people know this, but there are several corpses beneath the soil. When I was eight I buried Franz Ferdinand, my cat, at the back, right under that silver maple. And when I was ten, Teddy, my beloved cocker spaniel died. His tombstone’s right beside Franz Ferdinand. They got along famously.”

  Isabel went off to have a look, but Sylvia was too grown up to want to see.

  “We’ve got a garden now too,” said Sylvia, who I could tell was wary of Kate, but also fascinated.

  “So I hear,” she said. “What will you plant?”

  “I’ve not had time to give it much thought,” said my mother. “I wouldn’t mind a bit of a vegetable patch.”

  “Except that vegetables are so boring to look at,” said Kate. “Do promise you’ll plant some roses or peonies, won’t you? They’re so glorious.”

  I looked at my mother, wondering if she’d think Kate was completely frivolous, but she just smiled back pleasantly, and the two chattered on about their favorite plants and flowers. I realized I hadn’t been breathing properly, just sucking in little bits of air like someone in his final stages of drowning. I’d been terribly tense about Kate and my mother meeting, but they seemed to be getting on pretty well.

  Kate was a marvel. I’d never met anyone who was better at talking, and she never let a silence stretch on for longer than a second. She talked so easily to my mother and sisters that I started to relax—and even feel a little left out. I decided to let them be for a while, and took a walk around the garden. I only hoped my sisters wouldn’t say anything embarrassing.

  At the gazebo a waiter offered me a glass of something fizzy, and I stopped to listen to the string quartet.

  “I hope you and Kate are being discreet,” said Miss Simpkins, appearing at my side.

  “Of course,” I replied. I’d never been fond of Miss Simpkins, and it made me uneasy that she knew about me and Kate.

  “You want to see the future?” she asked me.

  “I didn’t know you were clairvoyant, Mi
ss Simpkins.”

  “That tall fellow over there,” she said, ignoring my joke. “Do you see him, in the green blazer with the crest? That is James Sanderson.”

  “Let me guess,” I said, “the heir to the Sanderson fortune.”

  “Ah, so you have heard of him.”

  “No. But whenever someone gets pointed out, he’s usually filthy rich.”

  “And so he is—or will be. And that, young Mr. Cruse, is most likely the man your Kate will be calling husband before long.”

  I wasn’t prepared for the fury that seized me. My pulse hammered at my temples. I felt sick. The expression on my face must have been unpleasant, for Miss Simpkins looked away.

  I watched Sanderson talking with some of his chums, smiling and laughing with all the presumptuous, easy grace I’d seen so often aboard the Aurora. I’d served many young men like him, who scarcely noticed their food was prepared for them, or their clothes pressed every day. They had little idea where their money came from, and had done nothing themselves to earn it.

  The thought of this fellow calling Kate his wife, touching her, made the garden tilt on its axis. I stared at him, and everything else seeped away off the sides of my vision. I imagined terrible fates for James Sanderson.

  “Well, he looks like a pleasant fellow,” I said, forcing myself to smile. “I hope he won’t be disappointed when Kate turns him down.”

  “I know you think me cruel,” said Miss Simpkins, and her tone was almost kind. “But I’m trying to make it easier for you in the long run. You mustn’t entertain notions that you and Kate have a future together. You’ll only be disappointed. You must be sensible.”

  “Thank you for your advice, Miss Simpkins,” I said stiffly, and walked off.

  I decided to check on my mother and sisters, but before I’d gone twenty paces, I saw Mr. de Vries walking straight toward me, smiling.

  “Mr. Cruse!” he said, hand extended. His grip was tight. “I’m Kate’s father, Charles de Vries.”

  “How do you do, sir.”

  “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. You’re a remarkable young man by all accounts.”

  I was completely unprepared for his enthusiasm. “Well, ah, thank you, sir.”