“I think that’s where the technology and living in the twenty-first century come in. We have slightly more advanced gear than reindeer-hide sleeping bags and paraffin stoves.”
“You sound awfully upbeat. What if they don’t get it fixed?”
“They’ll figure something out. I mean, it’s not as if it was broken intentionally, right? If it’s broke, they’ll fix it.” Right after Keene takes his notes and adds them to our psych file . “I’d rather focus on the party, to be honest. At this point, if I got a really good meal, comms could be down for the rest of the winter, for all I care. Speaking of which, is there anything else planned for tomorrow night?”
When there was no answer, Cass leaned out of the stall. Her friend was staring down into the sink. “Biddi?”
“Hmm?”
“I asked, is there anything else planned for tomorrow night after the dinner?”
“Oh. Sorry, love. I got a bit of the T3s there. Activities for tomorrow night, right.” She cleared her throat. “Officially or unofficially?”
“Both?”
Biddi turned to the mirror and sprayed it with a frothy cleaning solution, then set about rubbing the daylights out of it. “Officially, there will be some champagne after the dinner and some disco music, followed by a midnight screening of The Shining .”
“After what we’ve been through? Who the hell thought that was a good idea?”
“Think of it as exposure therapy.”
“As long as it doesn’t turn into a documentary.” Cass flushed the toilet and watched the blue whirlpool for a moment. “What about unofficially?”
“Nurse Beth—she’s a wild one, she is—told me some of our more adventurous colleagues are planning an ice party down in the warehouse whilst the movie is showing.”
“The warehouse is sixty below zero. Why would anyone have a party down there?”
“Well, apparently, someone with a degree in chemistry has been nicking a bit of sugar from the approximately ten thousand pounds of it in the warehouse and using it to fuel a small distillery in the back of the generator room, which, as you know, is not that far away from the warehouse.”
Cass leaned out of the stall to stare at Biddi. “You wouldn’t happen to have a degree in chemistry?”
“No. But my ancestors were bootleggers.”
“So, it’s just more drinking? Homemade hooch isn’t going to do much for frostbite,” Cass said. “It’s going to get ugly when body parts start freezing and falling off.”
“Ah, well, as to those body parts . . .” Biddi said, her voice trailing off.
Cass leaned out again, curious. A note of embarrassment had crept into Biddi’s voice, something Cass had never heard before. “Yes?”
“Evidently, there will be more than just drinking going on. It has been suggested that certain . . . calisthenics are planned.”
Cass looked at her blankly. “Calisthenics?”
“Yes, Cassie.” Biddi, impatient at having to explain the obvious, did a quick bump and grind. “Calisthen ics.”
Cass’s jaw dropped. “No way.”
“I shit you not, love.” Biddi snapped her washrag and moved to the next mirror.
“How do you find out about these things?”
“Sanitation engineers are the great levelers,” Biddi said haughtily. “We might be bloody fucking janitors, but we talk to everyone and everyone talks to us.”
“I’m a janitor, and no one told me about the orgy.”
“That’s because you’re down in the VMF all the time, fondling engine parts when you could be fondling . . . other parts. I, on the other hand, prefer to walk among the people.”
“So Mr. Boychuck and his hose will be there, I take it?”
“Um, well. Yes.” Biddi cleared her throat. “You should join us, Cassie. For the boozing, if nothing else. People think you take things too seriously.”
“Thanks but no thanks. I’ve got a date with a real plate of food, a glass of wine, and that’s it.”
“That nice man Jun looks lonely.”
“He’s married, Biddi.”
“Not for long, I hear.”
“What?”
“He’s been in the doldrums for some time now. Anne told me he’s having trouble at home. Didn’t you know?”
Tears, spilling from his eyes . “He told me a few things and I guessed the rest. Is there something new?”
“An American wife, a domineering family, pressure from his school, gone to the South Pole for nine months,” Biddi said. “The math is pretty easy, love.”
“It’s a sad situation.”
“Perhaps you could give him a hand, then. You never know what a little bit of tenderness might do for the poor man,” Biddi teased. “An ice wife might be just what he needs to cheer him up.”
“Can we go back to talking about food, please?”
“You brought it up, darling.”