by Phil Price
“Well, it’s so good to see you, my friends.” They both smiled, Kyra leaning over to give him a hug, planting a kiss on his forehead.
“We’re so glad you made it. Torben was devastated.”
Ark looked at the older man, a mischievous smile appearing on his face. “Aww. It’s nice to know that you still love me,” he said, hugging his friend.
“Okay, knock it off. I’m spoken for.”
“I can see that. So, it looks like you two have made a nice place here. What are your plans now?”
“Truth be told, we’re not sure, are we?” he said to Kyra.
“We’ve not thought that far ahead, Ark. Torben will go back to command soon, to see what they have in store for him. I’ll report back too, although I am going to take a break. The last year has been difficult. But we have come through it, haven’t we, Torby?”
“Yes, we have,” he said squeezing her hand gently as the breeze whipped at the waves that lapped the shore.
“So, do you need a hand finishing that jetty?” Ark said enthusiastically.
“Don’t you need to get back to your lady friend?”
“I will give her a call and ask her to join us, if that’s okay with you two?”
Kyra looked at Torben, nodding readily. “Sure, my old friend,” Torben said. “It will be nice to meet Ebrisa and tell her what a stand-up guy she’s bagged.”
They set to work, Kyra preparing a light lunch inside the stout cabin. She opened the windows, smiling as she heard the men’s voices drifting across the grass towards her. He looks so happy, she thought as the younger man passed Torben an air hammer and nails. The wind was strengthening, ruffling the men’s hair as they chatted and laughed. She opened the cooler, selecting an array of vegetables and a light dressing that she carried over to the counter. A few minutes later, the vegetables were diced and placed into a ceramic bowl with a good helping of dressing drizzled over them. Kyra walked back to the cooler, pulling out a dish of grallas. Firing up the griddle, she peeled most of the outer shells of the small crustaceans, splashing oil over them as they started to sizzle and spit. Pleased with her progress, she walked out onto the stoop as a young female approached from the pathway. “You must be Ebrisa?” Kyra said, her tone friendly and welcoming.
“Hello. You must be, Kyra?”
“Yes, I am. Welcome. I’m just preparing lunch. Would you like a drink?”
“That would be lovely. Walking from Vasteras has worked up a thirst.”
“What would you like?” Kyra said as she appraised the young woman. She was slight of build, her head barely reaching Kyra’s shoulders. Her long brown hair was wavy, seeming to bounce and shift whenever she moved. Her face was appealing, a light dusting of freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. It was the eyes that Kyra noticed most. One was violet, the other a vivid blue. They seemed to sparkle when the sun’s rays caught them, giving Ebrisa a magical aura.
“Anything cold would be great.”
“We have beer, wine or juice. We’re not fully stocked yet. Torben has big ideas to create a bar area out on the stoop.”
“Men huh!” she replied, placing her slender hands on her hips. “A beer would do just fine.”
Kyra walked over to the cooler, pulling two bottles of beer from the shelf. She handed one to Ebrisa, her fingers barely able to wrap themselves around the cool glass. “Cheers,” she said, flipping the lid from the neck.
“Cheers,” the smaller woman replied, popping the seal on her own bottle, taking a hearty gulp.
“Are you starting without us?” Torben said from the doorway.
Kyra turned to the two men, smiling. “I thought you two were hard at work. I was merely making our guest feel at home,” she replied as Ark gathered Ebrisa into his embrace.
“Hello, you,” he said, planting a kiss on her full lips.
“Back at ya,” she said, wrapping an arm around his waist.
“Torben, this is Ebrisa,” Ark said proudly.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said, extending his hand.
She took it, matching his grip. “Likewise. I have heard many stories about Torben, the hero of the Lomogs.”
“Stop it,” Ark said playfully. His head is already starting to swell. We’re gonna have trouble squeezing him back through the doorway.”
Kyra walked over to the griddle, turning the grallas over, their shells blackened, oozing juice across the iron stove. She scattered some herbs across them, adding some more oil which sent a plume of smoke into the air. “Go and set up the table and chairs you two,” she said to the men. “I will cut some bread with Ebrisa.”
The two men complied, heading out of the kitchen, bumping shoulders as they both tried to squeeze through the doorway at the same time. A few minutes later, Kyra placed the grallas salad on the table, Ebrisa placing a bowl of buttered bread in front of the men as the other woman headed back into the cabin. She returned a moment later, four bottles of beer held deftly between her fingers. “My kind of lunch,” Ark said as he gratefully accepted the cold brew.
“You’re not wrong there,” Torben said, taking a swig of the heady liquid.
They settled down, each person helping themselves to a few large spoonsful of salad, the shellfish completing the dish perfectly. Kyra began peeling her first grallas, licking her fingers as she deposited slimy shells into a small bowl in the centre of the table. “So, what are your plans?”
Ark and Ebrisa looked at each other, both smiling. “We’re not too sure. We’ll spend some time in Vasteras, then we’ll head over to my family.”
“Have you met them yet, Ebrisa?” Torben asked before depositing a plump piece of grallas into his mouth.
“No. Not yet. I am looking forward to meeting them. And Ark wants to meet my parents too.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Kyra said cheerfully. “Where are you from?”
“Originally, I’m from Hexagor. I grew up there, before my family moved to Biflux. We lived south of the Equator, in a small port called Kingsbain.”
“I’ve heard of Hexagor,” Torben said. “It’s relatively close by, just a few light years away.”
“Yes. It is a lovely planet, really verdant, with great weather and fabulous beaches. We only moved to Biflux because my father was transferred. That was almost fifteen years ago now.”
“I’ve never been to Kingsbain,” Kyra said. “Although, I know a few people who grew up there.”
“It’s really nice. Kind of isolated from the rest of Biflux. Freighter ships use it as a way station, stopping there to refuel.”
“What do your parents do?” Torben asked, the beer relaxing him, making him almost convivial.
“They are both retired now. They were teachers, working at the Kingsbain Academy.”
Torben and Kyra nodded, both knowing about the renowned academy, where budding pilots and sea captains were schooled in warm, balmy surroundings. “Are they still there, after what happened in the north?” Kyra asked, her face dropping slightly.
“Yes, although they are on alert. If anything else happens, they will ship out to Hexagor. We still have family there, who would put them up.” She took a pull on her beer, spooning grallas and salad onto a hunk of bread. She demolished the food, wiping her lips with a napkin. “How about you two? What are your plans?”
“Torben has yet to figure all that out,” Kyra replied, winking at the man seated next to her.
“Kyra’s right. We’ve both been through a lot lately. Kyra lost her family when the rebels attacked Lomax.”
“Oh no. I am so sorry to hear that, Kyra.” She said.
“Thank you. It’s been a tough few months. But we’re moving forward, making plans for the future. My parents liked Torben, and would be happy in knowing that we’re both safe and settled.”
“Well, let’s raise a bottle to them,” Ark said, hefting his beer into the middle of the table. They all clinked their bottles together, taking swigs of cold beer as a frigate appeared around the headland. They
all watched it for a moment, its wake trailing behind it as it ploughed through the waters.
“Such a nice place to live,” Ebrisa said happily.
“Yes, it is,” Torben replied. “I could live out my days here, raise a family and grow old peacefully.” He froze, realising what he had said.
Kyra looked at him, her expression inquisitive. “Raise a family?”
He blushed, taking a swig of his beer, hoping the cool liquid would reduce his temperature. “Well, isn’t that what every man wants?”
“I suppose they do. Did you have anyone in mind to settle down and start a family with?”
He rose from his chair, pulling Kyra towards the timber rail that backed onto the grass. “I was hoping that you would be receptive?”
“Receptive?” Ark said. “Boy, you really have a way with words, man.”
Torben blushed some more, looking out to sea. “Sorry. I’m no good at this kind of thing.”
She took his hand, pulling him into her embrace. “Well, when you finally learn how to be good at that kind of thing, just let me know.” Before he could reply, Kyra planted a kiss on his lips.
As they broke apart, he stared into her eyes. “I’ll get learning. I’m sure Ark over there has a book on that kind of thing.”
“Leave me outta this. You’ll scare Ebrisa away.”
“It may scare you away, Ark.”
“How do you mean?” he said, suddenly confused.
“Well if you ever pluck up the courage to ask me to be your life partner, you’ll have to run it by my Father. And he’s almost three metres tall and weighs three-hundred key-grams.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” he said, smiling as Torben and Kyra came back to the table to finish their lunch, as a flock of birds scooted across the white-tops close to the shore.
Thirty-Eight
Earth
“No, I’m afraid she’s not in. Can I take a message?” Hugh said, becoming increasingly frustrated by the tenacious voice on the other end of the line. “I’m her husband. My name? I thought you wanted to speak to my wife? My name is irrelevant.” More grilling on the other end of the line made Hugh lose his patience, slamming the house phone onto its cradle. “Fucking stupid cow. Leave us alone,” he said as he walked over to the kettle.
“Who was that?” Gemma said as she walked into the kitchen.
“Another crackpot, trying to get a story from you. We may have to go Ex-Directory.”
“Or we could just get rid of the landline. We hardly use it. Why not just have it disconnected?”
“Because of the broadband, babe. We need the landline.” A thought occurred to him. “I know what we can do. I will put the answerphone on. It will ring three times then go straight through to voicemail.”
“You think of everything. Have I ever told you that you’re a genius?”
“Not as often as you should,” he said grinning. “Fancy a brew?”
“Why not. Could you drop a slug of whisky in it, please? I think I’m coming down with something.”
“Oh no, we’re only three days away from Christmas. You can’t get sick now, babe.”
“Believe me, it’s not on my ‘to do’ list, hun.”
“Okay. I will drop a wee dram in it, just for you.”
“Thanks, babe,” she said, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “I’ll have this then head over to Caroline’s.”
“Okay. Say hi to her mum for me.”
“Mister smooth. Fraternizing with an older woman. I’ll have to keep my eye on you.”
“Well. I am a genius, women tend to flock to them.”
She playfully jabbed him in the ribs, walking over to the table to check her phone. “Oh god!”
“What is it?”
She walked over, handing him the phone. “This is becoming tiresome.”
He looked at the phone, a figure on the screen dressed as Doctor Spock, naked from the waist down staring back at him. “Hmm. Do you think he’s a real Vulcan? You didn’t hook up with this guy whilst you were away, did you?”
Gemma burst out laughing, sitting at the table as tears formed in her eyes. “I’m sorry, hun. But that really tickled me.”
“You’ve certainly become popular, even with aliens. Do I need to be worried?”
She rose from the chair, wrapping her arms around him. “Hun. You’re the only man in the universe that I want, and that goes for Vulcans too.”
Ten minutes later, Gemma pressed the doorbell of the cosy bungalow. Festive lights twinkled in the hallway beyond the frosted glass of the doorway. She stood there, the cold seeping into her bones as the door opened, Caroline standing there sporting a jumper with a red-nosed reindeer emblazoned across the front of it. “Hello, lovely. Come on in.”
“Thanks, hun,” she said, giving the Welsh woman a hug as she broached the threshold of the house. “Bloody hell! It’s freezing out there.”
“You’re not wrong there. I wrapped Mum up well before she headed over to the village hall for choir practice.”
“Bless. What time is she back?”
“Not sure. She’s popping to the Horseshoe afterwards with a few friends. She probably won’t be home until ten.”
Gemma slipped off her suede coat, hanging it on a hook under the stairs before slipping her ankle boots off. “Is Sarah here?”
“Are you kidding? She’s making herself comfy in the lounge.”
“Good girl,” Gemma said, walking from the hallway into the cosy living room.
“Hi, sweetie,” Sarah said, rising from a small dark-coloured sofa. The women hugged warmly, Gemma getting a blast of perfume from the blonde woman.
“Love the scent. What is that?”
“Marc Jacobs, Decadence. Why not. I feel like living on the edge.”
“I think you’ve done your fair share of that lately,” she said as Caroline walked in from the kitchen.
“What can I get you?”
“Oooo. What’s on offer?” she replied excitedly.
“Whatever you like. We’re celebrating.”
“What?”
“I’ve found a job.”
“Woohoo,” Gemma replied, walking over to embrace the other woman. “Tell me more?”
“Sarah. You fancy another?”
“Why not,” she said, grabbing her empty glass. The two women watched as she padded over, adjusting her miniskirt. “It keeps riding up,” she said meekly.
“You’ll have all the men in the village chasing you, hun,” Caroline said. “You’ve got legs to die for.”
“Stop it. You’ll have me blushing,” she replied as they headed into the compact kitchen, the glow from the under-lighters a welcoming sight.”
“So. Tell me about the new job?”
“It’s in Kidderminster,” she began, opening the fridge. “Wine, beer, or pear cider?”
“You read my mind. Cider it is.” Gemma said happily.
Caroline cracked the lid on the bottle, pouring her drink into a large tumbler. Handing it to the younger woman, she filled Sarah’s glass with a good slug of wine, topping it up with tonic water and a scattering of fresh raspberries. The blonde woman nodded her appreciation as Caroline continued. “Right. Yes. Kidderminster. Working in quality control. I did that a few years ago back in Carmarthen, so when I saw the job last week, I thought I’d throw my hat into the ring.”
“Well, that’s fabulous news. Cheers,” she said, hefting her glass.
“Cheers,” they both replied, clinking glasses.
“When do you start?”
“In the new year. Which suits me. It will give me chance to sort a few things out my end before I start work.” She paused, smiling coyly. “There is one more thing too.”
“Oh,” Sarah said, placing her glass on the countertop.
“The guy who interviewed me was very flirty. He won’t be my boss though. He’s the Marketing Manager. We had a coffee after the interview, in their canteen. He was asking me about the alien thing, as he’d recognised me from the
news.”
“Get you, Miss Hottie! Talk about a fast mover!”
Caroline giggled, taking a sip of her beer. “I’m not normally like that, but he was rather yummy. So, I just played along a bit.”
“How yummy was he?” Sarah said, suddenly very curious.
Caroline pulled her phone from her pocket, clicking onto Facebook. “I took the liberty of checking him out, just to see if he’s married. Purely for investigative purposes, I’ll have you know.”
“But of course,” Gemma replied as the Welsh woman handed her the phone. She looked at the screen, nodding her approval at the picture displayed. “He’s a bit of alright. Is he with someone?”
“He’s listed as single,” she replied.
“My kind of guy,” Sarah said. “I like a bit of scruff.”
“Me too,” Caroline added, her neck flushing. “The hairier the better. But I’ll just concentrate on work.”
“Yeah right,” Sarah said. “I’m sure you’ll be sharing coffee more often. Maybe he’ll even take you to Greggs for lunch.”
“Romance isn’t dead after all,” Caroline said sarcastically. “Right. I’ve got a few choices on Netflix. Shall we take a look, or do you fancy X-Factor?”
“Netflix,” they replied in unison, the three women heading back into the lounge to get comfy as more snow started to fall outside.
Hugh came downstairs, happy that Finn and Oscar were sound asleep. He headed into the kitchen, retrieving a bottle of Scotch from the kitchen cupboard, along with a crystal tumbler before heading into the lounge. Flopping down into his favourite chair, he flicked on the TV, selecting Sky News. A red banner filled the bottom of the screen, white text filing across the TV from right to left as Hugh poured himself a large measure of Teacher’s whisky. A female reporter addressed him and millions of others.