Peter Hamilton - The Mandel Files

“Sounds great,” he said.

She realized he hadn’t really been listening. He was still looking at her, query and longing bound up in his worshipful stare. What would he be like when he was eighteen? “I’ll do a deal with you, Fabian.”

“What?”

“If you take my bikini off, I’ll pull your trunks down.”

Fabian’s bedroom had been furnished with the same expensive care and attention lavished on the rest of the airship-an antique dresser, upholstered Nordic chairs, Chinese carpet, two pale still-life paintings in slim plain gilt frames. But the drawer had scratches, and a very odd purple stain that was still sticky; T-shirts, towels, and shorts hung all over the chairs; shoes and blade roller skates dotted that carpet; bawdy holograms of bimbo bands had been tacked up on the walls.

Fabian was a pretty ordinary teenager after all. One den the size of a small warehouse wasn’t nearly large enough for all his rubbish.

Charlotte had only ever seen it when the light was low, in daylight it was even worse. She sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, with her bikini back on, watching Fabian. He was squatting on his towel in front of the big wall-mounted flatscreen; it was tuned to French MTV, playing an old Rolling Stones track, the sound muted. But he was looking down at his cybofax, doing the London Times crossword with one hand, holding a choc-ice bar in the other.

She had never seen anyone do the crossword so fast. He would take a bite from the ice-cream and read the clues, then his fingers would dance over the keys. There was never any hesitation, no referring back to the cybofax’s dictionary function. She was tempted to ask him about a bioware node again; but that would make an issue out of it. Besides, she didn’t think Fabian had lied back at the pool yesterday. She didn’t think Fabian would know how to lie to her about anything.

So how could he demolish the crossword like this?

“Doesn’t the maid ever clean up here?” Charlotte asked.

Fabian looked round with bemused curiosity. “The staff take my clothes and stuff to be washed. But I’d lose everything if it was put into drawers.”

She picked up a metre-long model of an old-style military tilt-fan. It was heavier than she’d expected. The miniature missiles looked very realistic. “What can you do with this indoors?”

Fabian flipped his lock of hair aside. “Nothing, stupid. I fly it from the Colonel’s landing pad. Do you want to come up and try it? I’ll let you use the remote, it’s dead easy.”

“Maybe later. Where do you get all this stuff from? You must go on week-long shopping expeditions when the Colonel Maitland reaches a town.”

“Oh no, I pick it all out from catalogue channels, and have it forwarded to our next airport. The Gulfstream collects it for me.”

“I see.” Jason Whitehurst hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he kept Fabian on board the Colonel Maitland the whole time. She didn’t approve of that at all. Not that she could ever say so.

“I’ll have the maids clean it up if you don’t like it,” Fabian offered generously.

“I don’t think your father could afford the overtime bill.”

Fabian burst into gleeful laughter. “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Everything you say is always just right. The clothes you wear make you look utterly fantastic. You can swim well. You’re a super dancer. You know about everywhere in the world, not just what countries look like, but their politics as well. You’re like a superwoman, or something.”

“That’s age, Fabian. When you’re as ancient as me, you’ll have learnt it all as well.”

Fabian dropped his eyes. “You’re not old.”

“You’re very sweet.”

“You said you wouldn’t call me things like sweet and cute again,” he said petulantly. “Not now I’m your lover.”

“Sorry.”

“Charlotte?”

“Yes.”

“Can we do it again?”

He might be bright, she thought, but he had a grasshopper mind. “I think we might, yes.”

Fabian scrunched up the choc-ice wrapper and lobbed it in the direction of the bin, then bounced on to the bed beside her. “I forgot, you’re incredibly sexy too.” He said it timidly, as though he was swearing in church.

“Thank you.” Charlotte straightened her legs, and lay on her side next to him. “Remember what I like?” She kissed him, hand running over his belly. Her voice deepened. “How to make me ask you for more?”

Watching her face closely, Fabian reached out and undid the bikini top. He smiled greedily as the triangular scraps of fabric came free in his hands, and began to stroke the length of her ribcage the way she’d taught him. “What’s it like in space?”

Charlotte groaned, the mood spoilt. “Oh, heavens, Fabian. I’ve told you all I possibly can. If you want to know any more, you’ll have to go there.”

“No. I meant, you know, that… freefall sex.”

“Oh. Unearthly delights.”

“What?” he choked.

“Unearthly delights, that’s what the New Londoners call.

“Wizard! So what’s it like?”

“I don’t know. Never had the chance to try it.”

“No?”

She could read him like a book. He didn’t believe her. “No. But I admit I was thinking of it; I met a nice local boy while I was there. But I cut four days off the end of my holiday and came home early. So I never got the chance in the end. I expect it’s overrated, tourist board propaganda.”

“You packed up a holiday in space early! Whatever for?”

Charlotte swore silently. This airship flight was affecting her more than she liked, her self-discipline was going all to hell. “I had to get back for some business, and then there was the Newfields ball. Why? Would you rather I was still up there?”

“No! Crikey, Charlotte,” he said, genuinely indignant. “Don’t say things like that.”

She ran a hand over his chin, momentarily confounded by the lack of stubble.

Fabian drew a quick breath. “Hey, listen, I’ve just had a tremendous idea. We can go up to New London together. Right? You heard Father say I could go in a couple of years. Well, I will. It’ll be wizard. We could spend the whole time in freefall. Unearthly delights!” He giggled and clapped his hands exultantly.

It took a supreme effort to maintain her light smile. Dear God, he was a besotted teenager who thought she was going to stay with him till death us do part, amen. Sex equals love, they all thought that at his age. How could she have been so stupid, getting herself into this situation? It could only ever end in heartbreak now.

Fabian was waiting, flushed and deliriously expectant.

“A couple of years is a long time to wait.” She took hold of his hands, and placed them firmly on her breasts. “And I know some pretty good earthly delights.”

Charlotte let the shower’s hot spray play over her back, soapy water running down her thighs and calves. It felt good, relaxing her. The sharp jets of water pounded into her skin like a scratchy massage. Steam swirled around, warming her all the way through.

What the hell was she going to do about Fabian? He wasn’t a bad kid, certainly he deserved a lot better than her and his father. The obvious thing to do was cut and run as soon as she reached French Guiana. He was young, resilient, he’d get over her fast enough. Except she knew how much it would hurt hint. How much she would hurt him.

She couldn’t bear the thought of that trusting, mischievous face screwed up in misery. In itself an unusual, and disturbing, admission.

God damn Jason Whitehurst for not bringing up his son properly. And God damn Baronski for not knowing what Jason Whitehurst had wanted her for. The old boy was normally so careful about what he got his girls into.