Beneath Ceaseless Skies #64 Read online

  Madame Brackensfield herself had now descended from her boudoir and taken charge of the party. She was dressed in an elegant grey silk frock that was rather frilly in places, with puffy sleeves and a low cut bodice that revealed a generous helping of her ample and splendid bosom. Her dark hair, just beginning to show with some savage streaks of grey, was swept atop her head in an elaborate conical beehive, creating the impression that she was much taller than she was.

  Now she was providing her expert advice to Morrow and Miss Twickenham. “You need a firm grip, but not a harsh one, and the action is to slide the net into the water so it causes the least disturbance. This allows the net to billow out and trail.”

  Morrow practised with his net, slicing and scooping it through the air to the amusement of the others.

  “Oh, he is a born squidder,” Lady Amberley cried, and the other guests chuckled.

  Morrow was not adverse to playing the clown when it allowed him to be the centre of attention, but he suspected he was acting a little foolishly and had become somewhat befuddled by Professor Jefferys’s pipe; it was as if his head was caught in a fog and he was viewing the world through a dirty pair of spectacles.

  Now the Major rose from his chair, and with his net poised in his right hand strode arrogantly towards the tank that held the male squid. His breathing was relaxed, but there was an intense expression on his face. As his shadow fell upon the small watery world, the squid dived, seeking refuge among their rocks. The Major waited. No-one spoke. Finally, one squid swam out from a behind a rock in a taunting playful manner, waving its tentacles all about and flashing its colours. The Major plunged his net in and pulled it out quickly. It was empty.

  “He teases you, Major,” Madame Brackensfield said. “Perhaps your approach was somewhat intimidating.”

  “I am merely playing his game to gain his confidence.” The Major licked his moustache and placed his net in the water once more. This time he allowed the squid to make several passes, allowed it to grow a little more daring. The Major’s net flashed and broke the surface with the flapping creature captured within.

  The Major walked to the centre of the verandah. He held his net forth so it could be verified by all that he had indeed captured a squid. Then, without a word of explanation or any other warning, he reached into the net, plucked the squid out, and held it perched above his open lips.

  He couldn’t be serious, Morrow thought, could not possibly be...but then the Major allowed the squid to slip from his fingers and into his mouth.

  Miss Twickenham stifled a horrified gasp. Morrow’s heart quickened its beating. Surely, there had been some sleight of hand in the Major’s actions. What he had witnessed was impossible, and he wondered just how strongly the professor’s tobacco had been tinctured with laudanum.

  The Major’s face contorted in a ghastly fashion. His eyes grew round and wide as if they were about to burst from their sockets. A bluish tinge came upon his lips, and his throat bulged horribly as if he had suddenly contracted a goitre of astounding proportions.

  A shuddering wave of contractions swept through his body, starting in his legs, then passing up his portly belly to his chest and down the length of his arms. Morrow was almost convinced the Major was about to die a horrid death right before his eyes, but then the crisis—if indeed this was not just some skilful theatrical performance—was over. The Major breathed easily and a silly smile formed upon his lips. Morrow joined in the round of applause as the Major returned to his wicker chair. It was a hoax, of course. It had to be. A rather admirable party trick and nothing more.

  Madame Brackensfield herself was the next to venture to the tanks. Altogether her graceful manner seemed entirely at odds with the strange practice they were engaged in. As she approached the tank, Morrow stood from his chair and moved forward to gain a better vantage point. If there was trickery involved, and he was sure there was, he wished to be close enough to observe it.

  Madame Brackensfield employed a rather different style to the Major, altogether more genteel and ladylike. She simply took her net and slipped it into the water in one corner of the tank as she hovered above and cooed softly.

  After a few moments had passed, one of the squid detached itself from its fellows and approached the net with a quick blast of its siphon and a flash of its tentacles. Amidst a flurry of bubbles it swam into the net, giving itself up freely. Whereupon Madame pulled the net up and eased the creature out of the water. Then in an instant the squid was in the air, above her mouth, and down her throat.

  This time the facial contortions were of a lesser degree. Madame appeared for a moment to have merely swallowed an overly large plum plucked whole from a Christmas pudding. Either that or she was having some difficulty in passing wind.

  But so quickly had it happened, Morrow, despite his proximity, could not pinpoint where the sleight of hand lay. Perhaps there had not even been a squid in Madame Brackensfield’s net, but they had seen one because they wished to believe there was. Or perhaps the squid—they were not very large after all—had simply slipped down the front of Madame’s dress and now lay quivering in the abundant cleavage of her smooth white bosom.

  In the next moment Professor Jefferys came forward and took Morrow by the elbow. Once more Morrow believed his grip a little more forceful than the occasion warranted. “Our two novitiates next,” the professor said. “Come, Mr Morrow, Miss Twickenham, you shall perform a little duet. Myself and Lady Amberly will assist.”

  Miss Twickenham was looking decidedly green. Morrow experienced a momentary twinge of fear. He felt even more light-headed than before, as if he’d had one glass of absinthe too many at the Tweeters Club. He quelled his fear by assuring himself that, if he were mistaken and it were not a hoax, then the practice, albeit a decidedly unpleasant one, was quite harmless: Madame Brackensfield and the Major sat peacefully in their chairs with radiant smiles upon their faces.

  “Now,” Professor Jefferys began, “the object is to be both quick and careful. Fortunately for Miss Twickenham, the female of the species is noted for its good manners and will gladly accept your invitation, as Madame Brackensfield so artfully demonstrated. Whereas the males, Mr Morrow, enjoy a challenge. They won’t go down without a fight. They must be captured and subdued.”

  “What exactly...,” Morrow began, but Professor Jefferys raised a finger to his lips. “Miss Twickenham, are you ready? Mr Morrow?”

  Lady Amberly came forward to assist Miss Twickenham, who seemed to hesitate for a moment but then allowed herself to be led to the tank containing the two remaining female specimens. Her hand shook a little as she dipped her net into the water. “Yes, nice and gentle,” Lady Amberly whispered and began to coo above the tank as Madame B. had done.

  Not to be outdone, Morrow made a great show of studying the tank before him. He was hoping the squid he’d made the acquaintance of earlier would somehow decide to volunteer, that was, if it wasn’t already sitting in the Major’s stomach. But the two remaining squid had buried themselves in their sandpits, not moving at all.

  “Oh, well done, Lucy,” Lady Amberly cried, and from the corner of his eye Morrow saw Miss Twickenham’s net being lifted from the water.

  “It’s now or never, dear chap,” Professor Jefferys whispered. “You can’t let the lads down.”

  Morrow took one more look at where the squid were hiding, plunged his net in, scooped and pulled it out. Surprisingly, there was a squid within it.

  “Did you see that?” Professor Jefferys cried, and laughed a little. “Oh, did you see that!”

  “Beginner’s luck,” the Major said from his wicker chair.

  “Rather, I’d say a natural aquarist,” Madame Brackensfield responded.

  “Quickly now,” the professor said, “down the hatch it goes. They don’t like to be in the air for too long, and whatever you do, don’t chew, simply swallow.”

  Morrow raised the quivering net above his mouth, thinking this was the point where someone, either the Major or Mad
ame B., would step forward and cry, “Stop!” and then everyone would burst into laughter and all agree what a grand joke it was and retire inside for dinner. But that command never came, and Morrow was left with little choice but to place the squid in his mouth.

  It tasted of salty water and was somewhat metallic into the bargain. It was, to be more precise, like having a large live and angry oyster in his mouth.

  “Swallow,” the professor said in his ear.

  He did what the professor suggested, but the squid caught in his throat. It was fighting the descent. Morrow found he could not breathe. He felt his throat tighten and begin to bulge. All he needed to do, his body was telling him, was to bend forward and cough to expel the beast. But just when he felt he had used the last of his breath, his throat suddenly opened and squid slid into his stomach.

  Morrow shook his head, surprised at what he had just done. He heard the sound of clapping and looked up to find Miss Twickenham regarding him. The smile on her pretty face matched his own. It was a spontaneous gesture; they walked towards each, saying, “Well done,” and exchanged kisses on each cheek in the European fashion.

  Lady Amberly and Professor Jefferys guided them to their chairs.

  Madame Brackensfield leaned towards them, “That was simply wonderful for first-timers. You and Miss Twickenham obviously have an affinity with the creatures. I’ve seen people take the squid and shoot it straight out of their mouths. It is no good for the squid and no good for the person either.”

  Morrow nodded good-naturedly. He was feeling rather pleased with himself, and pleasantly full in his stomach as if he had just eaten a splendid dinner. Yes, he decided, he was feeling very pleasant indeed. Perhaps it was a mild euphoria from having successfully met the challenge to swallow a live squid, which he now imagined he was digesting. It was bound to be good for him too. Lots of protein, vitamins and minerals; a very pure and natural meat.

  5.

  The Ingestion

  The professor continues his bafflement—The Major reveals the name of his pet rabbit—Mr Morrow has an unusual experience.

  “Now we shall begin,” the professor said. “For the benefit of Mr Morrow and Miss Twickenham, our novitiate investigators into the unknown, let me explain the procedure.

  “I want you to think of something that is known only to you. Do not tell me what it is, for I am about to demonstrate that with the squid in gastro I am able to read the minds of each and everyone of you, and indeed, as the evening progresses we shall find we will shortly be communicating with our minds only. It is my belief, you see, that the Kraken used the squid to communicate between their ships by thought alone, as they travelled the dark reaches of space. You will appreciate, of course, the possibilities this opens up for us when we ourselves begin to reach for the stars.”

  “Very well,” the Major said. “I have a thought which is unknown to anyone else in this room, even my good lady wife.”

  “Would you care to write that thought down for Miss Twickenham and Mr Morrow?” The professor pulled a notebook and a pencil from his pocket.

  “Certainly.” The Major scrawled something quickly, tore off the page, and handed it to Morrow. Miss Twickenham leant close to him as they read it. Morrow could feel her warm breath caressing his cheek.

  I once had a pet rabbit called Mr Tootsie.

  Morrow chuckled. The tip of Miss Twickenham’s tongue touched his earlobe. He could not believe she had just done that. Surely, he had imagined it. He looked into her eyes. Some golden light seemed to be dancing in her pupils, and he realised for the very first time that Miss Twickenham was not just another person, but she was as alive and as real as he was. It was all very strange.

  “Now,” the professor said, “the Major was thinking about a pet rabbit he once had called Mr Tootsie. Is that correct, Miss Twickenham, Mr Morrow?”

  Morrow turned back to Professor Jefferys, about to protest that this was no demonstration of thought power at all but simply a parlour trick which had been pre-arranged. Instead he gasped and completely forgot what he was about to say.

  He looked at the Major, Madame Brackensfield, and then Lady Amberly, and felt his grip on reality slipping. Instead of their faces, instead of their heads, a live squid now perched upon their necks. From the shoulders down they were the very same people—he could tell this from their clothes—but their heads had been completely replaced by the body of the squid they had swallowed. They waved their tentacles merrily at Morrow. Dear God, the horror of it! He turned to Miss Twickenham, for reassurance he was not going mad, but, alas, she bore a squid head too.

  Morrow screamed, leapt from his chair, and rushed from the verandah.

  6.

  Such a Lovely Squid Head

  Mr Morrow becomes acquainted with his own squid head—Miss Twickenham reveals something of her nature—It takes two to tango.

  Squid heads, squid heads,

  Lovely, lovely, squid heads

  Squid heads, squid heads

  Eat them up... Yum!

  Morrow’s head spun. A half-remembered nursery rhyme echoed in his ears. Inside the house, he rushed about looking for his hat and coat, then stopped suddenly as he caught a glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror. With his mouth dry, he turned slowly to face his image. His head, as those of others, was no longer his own. Now a pair of golden squid eyes stared back at him, and where his mouth should have been there was an assemblage of tentacles waving in the air. It was as if his moustache had come to life.

  Morrow staggered back from his reflection into the drawing room, felt for a chair behind him and fell into it a shaken heap. Most certainly, he was not the man he used to be. His hands were trembling, as if he were in dire need of a drink.

  He reassured himself that calm and careful reasoning was called for in a moment such as this. The squid he had swallowed was obviously releasing some sort of toxin into his bloodstream, that when mixed with the ingredients of Professor Jefferys’s pipe had become a powerful hallucinogen. That was it; there could be no other answer. In a moment or two it would pass. He was sure of it.

  When he felt a little calmer, he rose from the chair and went to the mirror once more. His squid head was still there. But now that he knew it to be nothing more than an illusion, panic did not rise to engulf him. If anything he was feeling quite relaxed and found some of his earlier euphoria returning.

  He began to wonder where his brain was. It seemed entirely incomprehensible he should still be able to think, if his entire head had been replaced with the body of a squid. Ridiculous! But that, of course, proved what he already believed. How silly he was to let his mind wander like this. He did not have a squid head! And none of the others did either. It was nothing more than a toxin-induced illusion.

  Morrow raised his hand and watched as it rose in the mirror before him, thinking what a strange pink appendage a hand was. It hovered before his squid face. Touch it, he told himself, touch your face, feel your lips, your moustache, your nose...his fingers began to wave in time with the tentacles. How similar these things called fingers were to the squid’s tentacles, he thought, but still he did not touch his face. He did not dare.

  But as he studied his reflected image further, he decided that if he had to have a squid head then most certainly it was a handsome one: those lovely golden eyes. Those tentacles with their changing array of colours. The way they waved all about. It was the most attractive he had looked in his whole life. What a thing it would have been to turn up to the Danse Macabre with a live squid head and not some silly cardboard costume El Coco head.

  “Victor.” The sound of his name came straight into his head.

  He turned away from the mirror.

  The image that confronted him was at once bizarre and erotic, and more beautiful even then his own squid head. There stood Miss Twickenham with her squid head a’quivering, its tentacles flashing all manner of colours, and her long black skirts hoisted up to reveal a neatly trimmed Mound of Venus. It seemed, like many a young woman
in Brisbane, she had forsaken the wearing of undergarments—which was entirely sensible given the tropical nature of the city’s climate.

  That would have been enough to excite the lust of any young man, but there, sitting upon her neck, so delightfully slimy and shiny, was the most lovely squid head Morrow had seen in his whole life. Its eyes held a dancing green fire and its tentacles waved in a most sensuous fashion.

  “Would you care to tango?” Morrow asked, apropos of nothing but the sudden passion that swirled within him.

  “I would,” Miss Twickenham replied, offering her hand.

  They drew close. Their tentacles caressed. They embraced and danced a passionate tango up and down Madame’s hallway. Morrow felt his likely lad shooting to attention. The buttons of his fly were positively bursting. Miss Twickenham pressed her body against his, bit his earlobe and whispered, “The glistening girl is open to invitation.”

  “Is she now,” Morrow murmured.

  Their dance climaxed with the infamous step known as El Rondo de Azul. Archbishop Frobisher, the guardian of all that was good and proper in Brisbane, had described it as beyond all “moral decency and decent morality”. Morrow was pleased to find that the Archbishop had not been exaggerating. Thus the likely lad met the glistening girl in what could only be described as a lustful embrace, wherein all sense of decorum and modesty was lost in the heat of the moment.

  7.

  The Life Squidotic

  Mr Morrow goes for a pleasant swim—Professor Jefferys longs for his pipe—The Baffalator revealed!

  Morrow returned to the verandah while Miss Twickenham adjourned to the water closet to “rearrange her clothes”. Things had taken a splendid turn, and he was now thinking what a delight it was to have swallowed a squid. It led to such spontaneous encounters.

  “I appear to have a squid head,” he said, only to find the manifestation of squid heads upon Madame and her other guests had entirely disappeared, and Morrow was left feeling he had imagined the whole thing.