And Your Girl Can Sing

Chapter 97: Let the Champagne Flow!

 "You're in!"

Laughter, pats on the back, a toast from a bottle of champagne that Brian miraculously produced from somewhere in the confines of his desk. "We did it!" Paul yelled. "Cora, you brilliant bird—"

"We're gonna be fuckin' famous—"

"John," Brian reminded gently.

"—bloody famous, Bri!" John downed his drink with one hand and with the other squeezed my shoulder, his hand making its way down my arm and into my hand, squeezing it tightly. I myself couldn't stop smiling. I could't even hold my drink properly, Paul gently took it from my hand and placed it on the table. I took a look at him, cherub baby face, toothy smile, light blue dress shirt under his leather jacket. His engagement ring winked merrily at me as he poured himself another glass.

"All right, all right," Brian said. "We've got to discuss what exactly it is you must do for me now. It shouldn't be too hard. Just put those manners into play you hopefully leaned as children in grade school."

George in my ear: "Mum'll be so proud."

"Just give Brian her recipe for bubble and squeak," I told him back laughingly. "No need for manners."

The room held an air of excitement, and we all actually stopped chattering and gathered round Brian. "Now boys—and Cora—we'll all have you fitted for suits."

"Me too?" I asked.

"Well, no, you'll probably have a different outfit." Brian kept talking but I noticed the champagne bottle, it was glistening on the outside, the merry gold label looking wet and shiny. "We'll have a look in the catalogues to see what you get."

"So Cora gets a new on trend outfit while we wear suits?" Pete asked with a look of disappointment on his face, but I glanced back at the champagne bottle, which was definitely dripping and overflowing at a steady rate until the puddle on Brian's desk expanded to the floor.

My hand reached for John's. "Love? Do you see that?"

"Listen to teacher," he hummed and stroked my hand with the base of his thumb. The champagne dusted the floor a sparkly gold color, but it was rising and rising, the desk legs and file cabinet slowly being engulfed by the drink.

"We have to go," I said. "Does anyone see this?"

George frowned. "See what, love?"

"The... the champagne..." I glanced down and it was at my knees, golden and glistening. I reached down and scooped up its bubbly texture. I could feel it seeping through the fabric of my coat, through my stockings. "Brian?" I asked, but the liquid was up to my neck. "Does anyone see what's happening?"

"Let's discuss the details, love, and then we'll go out to lunch," John said, calm, and then I was under water. I tried to stay calm, reaching for John's hand, but it all went dark, and all I could hear was Brian's animated voice, speaking about the loss of swearing the boys were going to have to implement.

***

It took me a few minutes to realize I wasn't breathing, until I gave a deep gasp and tried to place myself. There was air. There was glorious air.

Shaky breath, shaky breath, shaky breath.

Dark place, soft place, not NEMS or under John's salmon bedspread in Mendips, but I was lying in bed, and where was I? The air smelled different, no more gold unbreathable liquid, but the sheets I was under felt familiar. I tried to move my legs and with a gentle jerk my left leg escaped the duvet and felt the air outside it.