“Are there more things like that?” muttered Constance.
Maliha looked at her friend almost with pity; she had clearly done no research. “I am afraid so, and some far less attractive than that one.” Not to mention all the species yet to be catalogued, let alone discovered.
“I don’t care what my husband wants,” said Constance in a complete reversal from her initial reaction. “I won’t be staying.” She looked across at Françoise. “What about you?” Maliha could not mistake the sound of desperate longing in her voice. It was almost as if Constance was addicted to carnal acts.
A taxi arrived and carried away a party of three. They all moved forward.
“I am feeling quite revigoré ... invigorated?” It seemed Françoise had taken the opportunity provided by the distraction to ignore Constance’s question.
Maliha nodded. “It’s all the plant life. Venus has more oxygen in its air. It has that effect.” Rather than receive the medicinal benefits of oxygen in one’s own home, one could simply move to Venus and have it provided for free.
Another taxi appeared; the city of Regina did not seem to have many. The arrival of a shuttle was probably their busiest time.
Since every roadway was also built up from the ground, the vehicles themselves did not need to be very different from those at home. They had four wheels, pneumatic rubber tires and were all large enough to have their own Faraday grids, which no doubt reduced strain on the raised streets.
Finally their time came and they climbed into the large interior of their ride. Maliha was particularly grateful for the reduced gravity; her thigh was aching. Porters ensured their luggage was stowed in the capacious rear compartment. The taxi also possessed a cooling unit and it was a blessed relief to be inside. Maliha gave the name of the hotel while Constance read her new address from a small, black book.
“Do come and have dinner with us this evening,” said Constance.
Maliha looked at Françoise, who shrugged. “Françoise is staying with you?”
“I have employed her as my companion.”
Maliha returned her gaze to Françoise whose lips crinkled into a smile. “It is a convenient arrangement, n’est pas? It had been suggested to me that a frontier such as Venus would be more tolerant to one with my—” her smile widened “—preferences.”
“I doubt it,” said Maliha. “But even if it were true, you have the appearance of a man. How will Constance’s husband feel about that?”
Quite unashamedly, despite the presence of Izak, Françoise reached inside her shirt, adjusted something, and her bosom became more pronounced. She removed her tie and undid the buttons at her neck, revealing a little décolletage. “Et voilà, Francis Gray has disappeared and, with a little rouge, Françoise Greaux has returned.”
Maliha shook her head. She did not think any good would come of this, but it was true that men were far quicker to assume relationships with men than women. And Constance’s husband did not take a great deal of notice of his wife, which was part of the reason for her difficulties. But still...
But still it was none of her business.
The hotel was the first stop, since it was close to the air-dock. Hotel staff quickly unloaded the luggage, and Maliha checked to ensure they had only taken her trunk and smaller cases. Constance held the door open and leaned out. “Tonight at eight, Alice. Say you’ll come.”
“It’s six-thirty local time right now,” said Maliha.
“Is it? All right, nine then. Shall I give you the address?”
“I remember it.”
Constance hesitated. “Of course, you do.” She looked around and beckoned Maliha closer conspiratorially. Maliha played the game and drew closer. Constance reached out and took her hand. “I just wanted to thank you.”
“For what?”
“You know,” Constance glanced back into the taxi at Françoise then turned back to Maliha. “Introducing us. Especially as you have also known her.”
Maliha suppressed the urge to frown and pull her hand away. Constance was trying to express her gratitude, which Maliha appreciated, but she lacked any discretion, which was less acceptable. Instead Maliha leaned forward and gave Constance a kiss on the lips—not provocative but a little more than just friends. Now Constance would have another fantasy for her bedroom.
Maliha waved to them as the taxi departed. It crossed her mind that kissing Constance that way might be considered cruel, but the woman was too self-centred to see it that way. She would just enjoy the thrill of it. After all, it had been public.
“Come on, Izak,” she said. “Let’s get out of this heat and see what the hotel has for us.”
vii
Constance Mayberry’s new residence was a few miles outside the main city and, according to what Maliha had read, Regina had a smaller population even than Johannesburg. However, after twenty minutes in the taxi, they were still driving through residential areas. If all these buildings were occupied, the population was much greater than estimated. She thought of the ships bringing their cargoes of people looking for a new life—though not this one.
As evening came on, the light changed. The hidden Sun moved round the planet until there was a portion of the burning clouds that was in the planet’s shadow and no longer glowed. The light was dimmer and there were shadows. It made Venus more real.
Once they passed out of the city proper, the roads continued to be raised and in good condition. The buildings were spaced out and they had fences. The fences were noteworthy—they looked as if they were fortified to resist military attack.
Maliha was not aware of civil unrest on Venus, though it seemed there were considerable holes in the knowledge she had acquired.
“Stop!” shouted Maliha through the glass that separated the passengers from the driver. He had to be told three times, but eventually he did bring the vehicle to a halt. Maliha opened the door and stepped out onto the slick granite-wood surface.
The roads might be in good condition, but there was insufficient traffic to keep them clear of fungus and other growths.
“What’s wrong?” shouted the driver.
“Nothing, I want to look at something.”
“Stay on the road.”
She could not place his accent. It was English but with a strange lilt that did not come from any of the larger countries, like Australia or North America. Of course, it was a Venusian accent. Or just a British Northern Venus Territory accent—perhaps merely a Regina accent.
Izak followed her out and handed her the cane they had acquired from the hotel.
She walked back along the road, taking care not to slip and trying to avoid the cracks. Who knew what lurked in the inky black between? In this place stepping on the cracks might be more than a child’s game.
The steam engine of the taxi panted quietly behind them; she could almost block it out and listen to the strangeness of this barely tamed wilderness. Creatures shrieked and cooed invisibly among the plants. There were movements that could not be attributed to the breeze. Things with wings and bulbous balloons floated above her.
Two minutes later she stood looking across a hundred yards of water-logged land at the remains of the saurian monster she had glimpsed from the taxi.
She had heard Venus described as a young, primitive planet. One reason for this description was the preponderance of massive dinosaur-like creatures, some of which were ferocious in the extreme. Well-heeled hunters came in their hundreds to bag these monstrosities and bring home a trophy—usually one of their hands or feet, since their heads were far too big to carry back to Earth.
The scientists had attempted to bring back living specimens of some of the smaller species, but they had all suffocated through lack of oxygen. Given what she knew now, Maliha considered this failure a mercy.
She studied the body now lying in the green sward. She imagined it had not been dead long, since growths of fungi and mosses had not yet fully covered it. Parts of the skin rippled and moved; her stomach heaved when a gash
in the skin revealed a glimpse of something large and grey moving under the surface.
Half the head remained intact, though it was in shadow, while it appeared the remainder had been blown away, perhaps by the hunter’s shotgun. She removed her glasses—the light blinded her for a moment—then stared at the head. The one remaining eye was visible. It was midnight black.
She glanced at her blue-tinted glasses thoughtfully.
Izak stamped hard on something next to her foot. She jumped back as he did it again and again. There was a squashed streak of something spindly lying crushed beneath his feet. She replaced the glasses to block out the light.
“Let’s go,” she said and added another lesson to her mounting list of appropriate behaviour on Venus: don’t stand still too long.
The taxi set off once more with the two of them sitting in the back. She pulled down the blinds on the window next to her. There had been no details of the makers of the glasses in the Army & Navy Stores catalogue; she had chosen these from the selection offered because they were in the higher price range but not the most expensive.
She removed and examined the glasses. The workmanship appeared to be of good quality. There was a maker’s name and address along the inside of the arm, which indicated they had been manufactured here in Regina. It made sense, since only those who lived on Venus could understand what was needed here.
The taxi turned off the main road and drove up to a gate. A man approached the driver who, after enquiring, passed on her name. Maliha could not help but notice the heavy-gauge shotgun and the two mounted machine guns on each gate pedestal. She was reminded in passing of the city states of Italy. Each home was fortified and the servants must comprise the Army.
Did neighbours help one another? Were there negotiations and political manoeuvring between the houses? Marriages of convenience? Star-crossed lovers? She smiled inwardly at her flight of fancy then became more serious—perhaps it wasn’t so far from the truth, with the House of Timmons controlling it all? And, if that were the case, there would be other families ready to take over.
Here the roadway was no longer built from wood but, as they headed uphill, constructed from slabs of black rock. And, though still raised from its surroundings, rested on the ground itself. As in all things, wealth determined the materials from which one’s property was constructed.
They drew up at the house, which looked to be a square construction, probably around an atrium in the middle. There were no windows below the second floor. Like a castle’s defences. But here they defended against the fauna, and perhaps the flora. Did fungi come under the heading of fauna? She had read two articles arguing that they belonged to their own genus because they were entirely dissimilar to plants.
The entrance was not a driveway up to the doors of the house, as it would have been on Earth, but once more it was defensive. The building stuck out on the ground floor to form a tunnel with a heavy gate at each end. As they approached, the gate swung back and admitted them.
They alighted from the taxi and, before Maliha had a chance to pay the driver, the footman had done so. They were escorted inside and Maliha glanced back to see the taxi driving away, marooning them. She exchanged a glance with Izak; he had also watched their means of return depart.
They were on their own.
viii
They were guided through to the atrium. It was not what Maliha had expected.
Rather than being open to the elements, it was covered with a construction of metal and glass, tinted in a similar manner to her glasses though not as heavily. And here were plants from Earth. There was ordinary grass underfoot, two apple trees and numerous bushes, including a rhododendron.
With the vibrant life that teemed outside the walls, one might expect these imported plants to be equally enthusiastic in their growth. On the contrary, however, they looked pallid and stunted.
“They’re sad, aren’t they?” said Constance from behind her. “I had hoped for something more from them when Leonard asked me to send them last year. The gardener says they’re all like this—nobody can get them to grow properly.”
Françoise stood beside Constance, their arms interlocked. The Frenchwoman was dressed once more in her flowing French fashions and looked as lovely as ever, even with her hair cropped short.
“Carbon arc lights,” said Maliha after a quick nod to Françoise.
“I’m sorry?”
“Carbon arc lights.”
“What are they?”
“There is a doctor of biology who claims plants require a form of invisible light to live,” Maliha said.
“Ultra-violet,” said Françoise.
“Yes, it gets blocked here on Venus by the clouds.” The same thing that turns the pale skin of Europeans brown and the reason they avoid direct sunlight whenever they may.
“Well, what do the damned Venus plants use?”
Maliha shrugged. “I’m sure someone is studying it, but I do know that arc lights emit that form of light.” She paused. “Though they do use a lot of electricity and the problem might be something else.”
“But if it works they’ll grow properly?”
“I think so.”
Constance drew closer. “Well, don’t say a word about it to anyone else—not only could we corner the market on the whole arc light market on Venus, it would give me an ‘in’ with the locals. I mean, seriously, from what I’ve heard they’re a real tight bunch and hate outsiders.”
“I thought your husband was a friend of Timmons’, and isn’t he the bigwig?”
“So I thought, but it seems like there’s a whole bunch of them. Old money, new money, doesn’t matter. Leonard says it took him a long time to get in with them,” said Constance. “Though he says he’s finally making some headway.”
She checked her watch. “Need to get this adjusted for Venus time.” She frowned as she did some calculations. “Yeah, time for dinner.” She glanced at Izak and then stared at Maliha as if expecting something.
Maliha considered making it difficult for her, but this might be convenient. She withdrew to the side of the atrium, taking Izak by the hand.
“They don’t want you at dinner.”
“Because my skin is dark?”
“That and because of where you were brought up.”
Izak nodded; he did not seem to be insulted. It was normal behaviour for white people, as far as he knew. Maliha and those she associated with were the exception.
“But that’s good. They’ll probably take you to the kitchens. Keep your ears open; see if you can find out anything about Timmons and his circle.”
“Do you want me to search the house, Goddess?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure there will be anything to find here, so don’t do that unless you’re sure you can get away without anyone noticing.”
A maid, also of African descent, arrived and escorted Izak away.
Constance took them across the lawn, up two flights of stairs and into a series of rooms that looked out across the shadowy, but still light, Venusian landscape. “Not sure I’ll get used to the way they put the living rooms higher than the bedrooms,” she said.
Maliha studied the sky. It looked as if a bank of low cloud was moving in and that meant rain. On Venus, low cloud always meant rain. Towards the tropics the cloud was almost continual with the heat and humidity in lethal proportions.
They came to a small dining room designed for a maximum of twelve.
“My husband will be joining us shortly,” said Constance. “Do you want a drink?”
“Water,” said Maliha automatically.
Maliha had been introduced to Leonard Mayberry but, even though they had stayed in the same house for a day or so, she had never had a conversation with him. When he arrived a few minutes later he looked much older than he had a year ago, his eyes and forehead lined with worry. Or was it just the oppressive climate of Venus?
He shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you properly at last, Miss Anderson. Constance ha
s spoken of you very often.” There was something secretive about the way he said it, a strain in his voice, a stiffness in the hand he offered to shake hers. She decided not to make it easy for him.
“We were at the same table at the Mawdsley house for Alex’s funeral,” she said, almost as if she was offended.
“Oh, sure, you have a face no one could forget.” His smile was all teeth. She could not tell whether it was flattery, insult or a racial slur. “You’re the one that had his wife and daughter locked up.”
Maliha smiled as sweetly as she could manage. “If I had had my way, Mr Mayberry—”
“Call me Leonard.”
“—I would have seen them hang, Leonard.”
“Well, you’re a bloodthirsty one.” He laughed, but she thought it was forced.
She scratched the back of her hand and noticed the way his eyes flicked down. He met her eyes as he looked back up.
“Strange for a person so young to use a cane.”
“An accident a couple of years ago.”
“Must have been bad.”
“It was.”
Constance arrived between them. “You two are getting along just fine, I see. I knew you would.” She turned a conspiratorial eye to Maliha. “Just don’t get him started on the history of warfare.”
The dinner gong rang and the four of them moved to the table. They could have been anywhere in the British Empire. The Americans did not have an empire; they preferred to stay out of anything to do with Europe, though they still seemed happy to supply the Germans with helium. Perhaps they were concerned about the power of the British and that they might try to reclaim the colonies that had once been theirs.
The Mayberrys certainly did not lack for servants, with two maids serving, the butler, and plenty of activity in the kitchens below. The food arrived via a dumbwaiter placed just out of view.
Maliha apologised almost sub-vocally as her stomach made itself known. She flushed with embarrassment.
“Someone’s looking forward to their meal,” said Leonard quite indelicately.
Under the Burning Clouds Page 19