The Deep End—Sx¶
— Robyn —¶
✈️ 🕊️ 🌫️ 🌿 🌷 🪜 ☕ 🧠 💻 ꧁ 🪷 🌷 🌸 🌺 🦩 ꧂ 🧺 🔐 💼 💻 💎 🩱 🥻✂ 🩸 💧—
😄 🧵 💛 👭 💞 🖤 🍓 🌶 🚪 🔑 🛋 🫧 🌩 🌧 🧵 🪡 👗 👚 👜 👠 🩰 💄 💋 🎻 📒 🚺 —
Scene 12¶
🌷 🌸 🌺 Polyester 🌷 🌸 🌺
[ Celeste ]
I opened the armoire. Autumn dictated trousers, but which blouse? I pulled a cream-coloured Rhea in silk off its hangar, then put it back: no cardigan to suit.
Ten minutes later, makeup done, hair managed, trousers zipped and blouse tucked I turned slowly in front of the mirror.
And thought of Sarah.
Wrong shoes. My lips tightened. Kicked them off, and slipped into my usual black ones.
And thought of Charlotte.
I could barely hear my phone chirping. I pulled it from my purse.
“Sarah? All good?”
“I'm fine, thanks. I’m actually at the airport, and was wondering if you wouldn’t mind—”
“Stay there,” I said. “I’ll be there as quick as I can.”
I kicked of my black shoes, pulled off the trousers and pulled on a skirt.
Mara must have called her back to Victoria.
The phone buzzed in my hand.
Fiona.
"Hi, Fiona, how are things?" Silence on the other end. I stilled. "Hello?"
"Oh, hi, sorry... just talking to Charlotte. Look, we had a bit of an issue here."
"Oh?"
"Some of the costumes were... failing. And were cumbersome to get in and out of."
"Right?" I climbed into the car. "I'm going to put you on speaker," I said with a small shiver, wishing I'd stuck with trousers.
"So, Leo—he's from the Faire Management team—he was not pleased that the marketplace girls' dresses were holding up so poorly."
The turn signal blinked and I turned onto the street. Oddly empty for a Friday.
“Where were the costumes failing?”
A long pause.
“Hello?”
“No, I’m here,” she said. “At first—it looked like handling. They weren’t exactly gentle.”
“Sorry, but you didn’t answer my question.”
“At first, it was the waist seam. Where the bodice meets the skirt.” A pause. I frowned. I distinctly remembered Charlotte testing this over and over. “It was mostly in the ‘well-nourished woman’ series,” she went on, and then another long pause.
“And then…”
“They started failing alongside the zipper.”
My engine whined as I sped up to catch the yellow light.
“What zipper?”
“Um, well, Charlotte installed some zippers.”
I said nothing. The houses gave way to paddocks. I waited.
“Well, we asked her to install them. To make changing easier.”
I felt my neck tighten as I stared down the road.
Of course they did.
"How many costumes are affected?"
"About a dozen or so. I just wanted to let you know, because you might be hearing from the lads in Management."
I sighed. Nodded.
"Thank you, Fiona. Quick question," I added. "Are they repairable?"
"Charlotte's working miracles. She's managed to correct most of the issues."
A semi thundered past me on the motorway. I grimaced as I looked at my speedometer. 85. I stepped on the accelerator.
Focus on your driving, Celeste.
Sarah waved at me as I pulled into the passenger pickup zone. The air was warm, thick with the smell of spent jet fuel, making it feel warmer still. I gave her a hug—her hair was all askew from the flight. She landed in her seat with a satisfied sigh.
"Oh Celeste, it's so good to be home!"
“Good to have you back.”
I braked—late—as a tinny beep cut through behind us. A muscle car roared past. “When did Mara ring you?”
"She didn't. Lauren did."
I frowned.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, she's been having dramas with Roger. He's being a royal—"
The blast of a horn cut her off. A semi thundered past, chains rattling. I stilled, eyes on the road. Waited for it to clear.
“So—” I said, once it had. “How is Charlotte?”
“Oh, Celeste, she’s coming into her own!”
I glanced at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“She’s got this, Celeste.” She shifted her seat back a fraction. I heard it click into place. “Look, my work up there was done, anyway, and Charlotte’s been making really good decisions.”
"Really?"
"What do you mean, 'really'?" Sarah frowned at me.
"Did she run putting zippers into the costumes by you?"
"Zippers?" The frown morphed into a stare. "What zippers?"
The stare settled into thin lips. She turned her focus back to the road as I filled her in on my chat with Fiona. The car was silent for a while. We were just turning into the Wardrobe carpark when Sarah finally spoke.
"Do you need me to go back?" she said at last.
I shook my head. "Fiona reckons the problem's been fixed, but we might be hearing from Faire Management about this."
The car doors closed with a whomp. I felt my spine loosen as the reassuring scent of cloth and chalk spread itself around us. The steam press hissed as Mara lifted her head.
"Celeste."
"You heard, did you?"
She nodded, curt, lips a thin line.
"It's not like Charlotte to suggest zippers," she said quietly. That girl knows this design as well as we do."
The door opened and Lauren walked in stiffly, eyes red, followed by Sarah.
"Why don't you two go home. Keep me posted, please," I said to Sarah.
Lauren looked around quickly. "You sure?"
I set my hands lightly on her shoulders and guided her to the door.
"You have bigger fish to fry. Take whatever time you need. We'll be fine, here."
The usual bustle of afternoon actresses broke the hush of calculation and design. Bree and Lily were singing as they pinned their hair up beneath the new caps we’d only just finished. Caps that were Charlotte's latest design.
I pressed my fingertips to my lips. Shook my head again.
Zippers? Makes no sense.
I stepped into the tearoom and stared at the empty tin where teabags lived.
And sighed.
Mara was on the phone when I returned to my table. She glanced at me and grimaced, pointing at the phone.
"The material you specified does not lend itself to modern contrivances such as zippers." Her voice was cold, her speech clipped. "We can certainly look at changing the material, but the original order emphasised authenticity." She nodded again, lips firm, eyes shut. "We will look into it, but I can't promise anything."
Bree waved me over to the loading dock door, her face a thundercloud. "You didn't order [polyester], did you?"
"Absolutely not." The delivery person passed me the invoice. Under 'Authorised By' was an unfamiliar name. Leo Gartner.
I heard Lucy's voice over my shoulder.
"Who's Leo Gartner?"
I shrugged, then noticed the first two digits of the phone number.
'07'.
Queensland.
"Who ordered this?" Mara asked, appearing on the loading dock.
"Likely the person you just got off the phone with. You wouldn't have been talking to some bloke named Leo—"
"I was." She stared at the material as if it had reached its use-by date.
"He wants us to use this material, then?"
"He mentioned something of the sort. The quote we'd sent for ball gowns were too dear because of the material, he said. He didn't tell me he'd already ordered something else, though."
"Well, his name's on the invoice." Heat and cold chased each other through me. "He's trying to steamroll us, Mara."
"Like he steamrolled Charlotte," she said.
My fingernails bit into my palms.
"We're going to have to let her finish up there."
Mara nodded once. "We've all had our learning curves."
She pointed at the material. "We might send that on the Queensland, Celeste."
I could have hugged her.
The sun had already gone down when I dug through my purse for the keys to my little car. Our contract with Queensland had been open-ended. Either party could terminate it, for whatever reason.
"We're done," Mara had told me before she left.
She didn't need to tell me the reason.
It was polyester.
—
Published¶
🌷 🌸 🌺 Polyester 🌷 🌸 🌺
[ Celeste ]
I opened the armoire. Autumn dictated trousers, but which blouse? I pulled a silk cream-coloured Rhea off its hangar, then put it back: no cardigan to suit.
Ten minutes later, makeup done, hair managed, trousers zipped and blouse tucked I turned slowly in front of the mirror.
Wrong shoes. My lips tightened. Kicked them off, and slipped into my usual black ones.
And thought of Charlotte.
I barely heard my phone chirping. I pulled it from my purse.
“Sarah? All good?”
“I'm fine, thanks. I’m actually at the airport, and was wondering if you wouldn’t mind—”
“Stay there,” I said. “I’ll be there as quick as I can.”
I kicked of my black shoes, pulled off the trousers and pulled on a skirt.
Mara must have called her back to Victoria.
The phone buzzed in my hand.
Fiona.
"Hi, Fiona, how are things?" Silence on the other end. I stilled. "Hello?"
"Oh, hi, sorry... just talking to Charlotte. Look, we had a bit of an issue here."
"Oh?"
"Some of the costumes were... failing. And were cumbersome to get in and out of."
The air outside the apartment had that characteristic autumn crispness. I aimed my key at the car. It beeped cheerfully.
"Right?"
I climbed into the car. "I'm going to put you on speaker," I said with a small shiver, wishing I'd stuck with trousers.
"So, Leo—he's from the Faire Management team—he was not pleased that the marketplace girls' dresses were holding up so poorly."
The turn signal blinked and I turned onto the street. Oddly empty for a Friday.
“Where were the costumes failing?”
A long pause.
“Hello?”
“No, I’m here,” she said. “At first—it looked like handling. The girls weren’t exactly gentle.”
“Sorry, but you didn’t answer my question.”
“Okay. At first, it was the waist seam. Where the bodice meets the skirt.” A pause. I frowned. I distinctly remembered Charlotte testing this over and over. “It was mostly in the ‘well-nourished woman’ series,” she went on, and then another long pause.
“And then…”
“They started failing alongside the zipper.”
My engine whined as I sped up to catch the yellow light.
“What zipper?”
“Um, well, Charlotte installed some zippers.”
I said nothing. The houses gave way to paddocks. I waited.
“Well, we asked her to install them. To make changing easier.”
I felt my neck tighten as I stared down the road.
Of course they did.
"How many costumes are affected?"
"About a dozen or so."
I sighed. Nodded.
"Thank you, Fiona. Quick question," I added. "Are they repairable?"
"Charlotte's working miracles. She's managed to correct most of the issues. I just wanted to let you know," she said, "because you might be hearing from the lads in Management."
A semi thundered past me on the motorway. I grimaced as I looked at my speedometer. 85. I stepped on the accelerator.
Focus on your driving, Celeste.
Sarah waved at me as I pulled into the passenger pickup zone. The air was warm, thick with the smell of spent jet fuel, making it feel warmer still. I gave her a hug—her hair was all askew from the flight. She landed in her seat with a satisfied sigh.
"Oh Celeste, it's so good to be home!"
“Good to have you back.”
I braked—late—as a tinny beep cut through behind us. A muscle car roared past. “When did Mara ring you?”
"She didn't. Lauren did."
I frowned.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, she's been having dramas with Roger. He's being a royal—"
The blast of a horn cut her off. A semi thundered past, chains rattling. I stilled, eyes on the road. Waited for it to clear.
“So—” I said, once it had. “How is Charlotte?”
“Oh, Celeste, she’s coming into her own!”
I glanced at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“She’s got this, Celeste.” She shifted her seat back a fraction. I heard it click into place. “Look, my work up there was done, anyway. And Charlotte’s been making really good decisions.”
"Really?"
Sarah frowned at me. "What do you mean, 'really'?"
"Did she run putting zippers into the costumes by you?"
"Zippers?" Her head snapped back, her frown morphing into a stare. "What zippers?"
As I filled her in on my chat with Fiona, the stare settled into thin lips, her focus, on the road. The car was silent for a while. We were just turning into the Wardrobe carpark when she finally spoke.
"Do you need me to go back?" she said at last.
I shook my head. "Fiona reckons the problem's been fixed. However, we might be hearing from Faire Management about this."
The car doors closed with a whomp. I felt my spine loosen as the reassuring scent of cloth and chalk spread itself around us. The steam press hissed as Mara lifted her head.
"Celeste."
"You heard, did you?"
She nodded, curt, lips a thin line.
"It's not like Charlotte to suggest zippers," she said quietly. "That girl knows the design as well as we do."
The door opened and Lauren walked in stiffly, eyes red, followed by Sarah.
"Why don't you two go home. Keep me posted, please," I said to Sarah.
Lauren looked around quickly. "You sure?" Her voice was thin.
I set my hands lightly on her shoulders and guided her to the door.
"You have bigger fish to fry. Take whatever time you need. We'll be fine, here."
The usual bustle of afternoon actresses broke the hush of calculation and design. Bree and Lily were singing as they pinned their hair up beneath the new caps we’d only just finished, caps that were Charlotte's latest design.
I pressed my fingertips to my lips. Shook my head again.
Zippers? Makes no sense.
I stepped into the tearoom and stared at the empty tin usually filled with teabags.
Sighed.
The holding dock bell rang. Bree left the group to open the door.
Mara was on the phone when I returned to my table. She glanced at me and grimaced, pointing at the phone.
"The material you specified does not lend itself to modern contrivances such as zippers, sir." Her voice was cold, her speech clipped. "We can certainly look at changing the material, but the original order emphasised authenticity." She nodded again, lips firm, eyes shut. "We will look into it, but I can't promise anything."
I looked up to see Bree waving me over to the loading dock door, her face a thundercloud.
"You didn't order polyester, did you?"
"Absolutely not." The delivery person passed me the invoice. Under 'Authorised By' was an unfamiliar name.
Leo Gartner.
I heard Lucy's voice over my shoulder.
"Who's Leo Gartner?"
I shrugged, then noticed the first two digits of the phone number.
'07'.
Queensland.
"Who ordered this?" Mara asked, appearing on the loading dock.
"Likely the person you just got off the phone with. You wouldn't have been talking to some bloke named Leo—"
"I was." She stared at the material as if it had reached its use-by date.
"He wants us to use this— stuff, then?"
"He said something of the sort. The quote we'd sent for ball gowns were too dear because of the cost of the material we'd selected for it, was what he said. He didn't mention he'd already ordered something else, though."
"Well, his name's on the invoice." Heat and cold chased each other through me.
"He's trying to steamroll us, Mara."
"Like he steamrolled Charlotte," she said.
My fingernails bit into my palms.
"You know we are going to have to let her finish up there."
Mara nodded once. "We've all had our learning curves."
She pointed at the material. "We might send that on the Queensland, Celeste."
I could have hugged her.
The sun had already gone down when I dug through my purse for the keys to my little car. Our contract with Queensland had been open-ended. Either party could terminate it, for whatever reason.
"We're done," Mara had told me before she left.
She didn't need to tell me the reason.
It was polyester.