Thank you everyone who has stuck with this story. Especially those of you who have left comments or sent me messages. To Robyn, Chris and Emily who all proof read, provided support and acted as sounding boards to all my crazy ideas.

I hope this, the final chapter, does justice to you all and to Emma and the gang.

Part 10

The glow subsides and I see a door has opened up at the other end of the white room, through which a youngish man enters. He wears a white turtleneck sweater with white jeans.

“Hello Emma, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” he says, smiling in an ostensibly friendly manner yet somehow making me feel uneasy. His expression reminds me of a hungry dog. I try to get up off the floor but find I can’t move. All I can do is stay there kneeling.

“Thank you, Carly,” he says, turning to her. “Could you fetch Emma a drink please?”

Carly turns to me and asks if I’d like water and I just nod. If I can drink water here does that mean this place is real? After Carly has left the man kneels down so his face is only a few inches above me.

“You know, Emma, I think Carly’s very talented. It’s so hard for artists to make their way in the world today. So few people think they have to pay for music nowadays.” He stands up again and starts walking around, pacing as he speaks.

“Have you ever read ‘Brave New World’ by Aldous Huxley? Huxley was a very smart man, much smarter than George Orwell.” He looks at me to see if I’m following; I just stare back, unable to speak. “You see, Huxley understood that it’s easier and more efficient to control people by offering them what they think they want. Who would have thought you could persuade ‘the people’ to stop paying themselves wages for creative work?”

As the man talks the room appears to be coming into focus. A desk with an expensive looking Mac computer appears, one wall reveals itself to be wholly made up of glass. Outside is a forest made up of ancient looking oaks and pine trees. We seem to be high up in the roof of the forest canopy.

“Anyway,” the man finishes, “where are my manners? You don’t look very comfortable.” He presses a couple of buttons on the computer and suddenly I can move again. I get up realising I’m now dressed in what looks like a Sixties ‘Op-Art’-style mini dress.

“What can I say? I’ve always loved the look of those Brit girls back then,” he smiles at me. “Groovy, baby!” I wince at his bad British accent and he extends his hand to me.

“Emma, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Martin Cerberia. This,” he gestures to the room around me, “is my company.”

“Am I really here?” I say, more to myself than in expectation of an answer. Carly renters the room and hands me a glass of water. I take a sip. There's no point worrying about being drugged now. It tastes cold and refreshing.

“The water tastes great up here,” Carly says as she watches me drain the glass.

“Where is ‘here’?” I ask. “You haven’t actually told me.”

“Here is wherever you want it to be, Emma,” Martin sits on the edge of the desk.

“You don’t have to worry,” says Carly, ”Martin wants to offer you a deal.”

Suddenly the room changes. It’s filled with a flashing blue light and somewhere in the distance I can hear a siren - an ambulance, I think? As quickly as it changed, it changes back.

“What was that?” I ask.

“We don’t know,” Martin answers for both of them. “You tell us?”

I think for a moment. “It sounds like just after I was shot. All day I’ve been hearing sirens and seeing lights.” I turn to Carly. “I heard your voice,” I state.

Martin strokes his chin, “It sounds like Mark has something he wants to tell you.”

“Are you going to tell me this has all been a dream? That I’m lying in a street in Shoreditch moments away from dying?”

Martin looks me in the eyes. He has attractive grey eyes, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m a bunny looking into the eyes of a hawk.

“Do you know there are scientists who believe that, in all likelihood, we are all living in a huge computer simulation of a civilization that died out thousands of years ago? They think that this is the ultimate fate of all advanced civilizations, and that statistically it is more likely we are part of the simulation rather then the ones who created it.”

I scratch my arm, feeling the chill from what I assume must be the air-conditioning, “That doesn’t really answer my question.”

“Carly said I was going to offer you a deal and here it is, Emma.” He stands up and comes over to me; I step back a little, stumbling in the heels strapped to my feet.

“Do you know who you are, Emma?”

“I’ve had a long time to think about it,” - I really have - “and I think I’m really Emma now. Mark’s a part of me, but only that. I’m certainly not Chloe.”

“That’s very sweet, Emma, and of course you’re right,” Martin says, moving forward with a slightly crazed look in his eyes.

“Martin, perhaps you should give Emma some space?” Carly says, her voice uncertain. He just waves her away.

“You, Emma, are the birth of AI.”

“What?” I stop moving backwards. I am perplexed. “Artificial intelligence?”

“Yes.” Martin shrugs his shoulders as if he thinks it’s obvious. “AI is the next big prize in science. Imagine if we could achieve it? We’ve got so close with the New Body project. We’ve created programs that can seem almost alive, and we’ve been able to load someone’s memories and personality into a new body. But to create a whole new person, someone who can learn and grow, respond to events in a wholly unpredictable manner is new. You, Emma, are the nearest we’ve come.” He grabs my arms in his much larger hands.

“Ow!” I say meekly, “You’re hurting me.” I can feel tears starting to run down my cheek. Just behind Martin I can see Carly’s worried looking face.

“Martin,” she says, “perhaps you should put Emma down?” Her voice is shaking. Clearly she wasn’t expecting this. He stops and seems to be thinking for a moment.

“Yes, of course.” He lets me go, walks back around the desk and sits down at the computer.

“So here’s the deal, Emma.” He presses a button and suddenly I can hear the sounds of people around me. A male voice is asking what happened and I can hear Carly crying. “You can go back to being Mark now and take your chances or you can live here as Emma.” His smile has gone; he looks deadly serious.

“Martin, that wasn’t the deal we talked about!” Carly exclaims, clearly shocked. “What about her family, her friends?”

“Shut up,” Martin says bluntly, Carly looks like she’s been slapped. “I’m not paying you for your opinion.” I ball my fists, wondering if I could get to the door before Martin can stop me. But what’s beyond there? Is this even a real place? Is this a computer program?

“It would be a comfortable place for you to live.” He gets up and starts walking towards me. I feel myself changing again. I look down and see that I’m now wearing a Playboy bunny outfit “We could have lots of fun...” The smile on his face makes me feel sick.

“You pervert!” I hear Carly scream. She comes up behind Martin and smacks him hard over the head with the computer keyboard. He crumples over on the floor. “Emma, run!” she shouts. I don’t need telling twice. I turn and I flee towards to the door. The last thing I see is Carly pushing over the computer. There is a terrible crash as I haul open the door. As I stumble through everything turns white.

“Emma! Emma! Wake up, please!” My head is spinning. Everything’s a blur as I try to sit up.

“Oh, thank God!” I feel two arms being flung around me. I recognise the voice as Poppy’s.

“Poppy!” My sight is clearing. I’m on the floor of the cabin on Anglesey with Poppy and the others standing around me. “Poppy, we have to run. They’re nearly here!” I jump up and grab her hand. I can see the shocked and panicked looking faces of the others. As I pull Poppy out of the cabin I can already hear the sound of helicopters in the distance.

“We have to get to the trees,” I urge, pointing to the small line of trees on the edge of the park. Poppy speeds up pulling me along with her. We reach the trees just in time. I turn back and see the park bathed in searchlights coming from the helicopters above. I see a group of men dragging the others out of the cabin. Noah is shouting something at one of them, who has grabbed Christina. I smile as I see her lashing out, kicking her captor in the balls.

We crash through the bushes and the undergrowth. I almost scream out when Poppy pulls me into a ditch, but she puts a hand over my mouth. Still holding her hand there she pulls us both into a space under an old tree. The rain has washed away much of the soil around its roots. There's a small space we can hide in. Silently she points upwards. I look and see the backs of two men carrying flashlights. If they were to turn and shine their torches at us we’d be discovered. Thankfully someone shouts something and they move on.

Slowly she releases her hand from my mouth, motioning for me not to talk. I just nod in agreement as I think of the others. I hope they’re all alright? The ditch turns out to be the bed of a small stream, little more than a trickle really. We follow it down the hill and away from all the noise. Eventually it leads us to the edge of a small country road.

“We can follow the road,” Poppy says. She continues to grip my hand like both our lives depend on it. I want to tell her how much it means to have her here by my side, but now is not the time.

“We should stay off the road, that’s where they’ll check first,” I say. “I think there was a petrol station a couple of miles in that direction,” I point across the field. “If we can get to it we might be able to hitch a lift.”

Poppy nods and we set off over the field. From a car most fields look pretty flat. It’s only when you’re fleeing over one in the middle of the night that you realise how uneven they are. I slip and tumble over. My face breaks my fall.

“Are you okay?” she asks, lifting me up.

“Yes, I think so.” I can see in the distance the helicopters are searching in the wrong place. One of the others must have sent them in the wrong direction. Whoever it was, I could kiss them. They won’t be fooled for long but it could give us the time we need.

“You’ve cut your lip,” Poppy tells me, wiping dirt from my face. “It’s going to swell up.” I take her hand and we start off again. We have an advantage but it wont last for long.

It seems to take forever before we get to the petrol station. When we do, we hang around the edge watching. One car pulls up but nerves get the better of us and we don’t go out. It’s another ten or more minutes before someone else arrives. I can hear the helicopters getting closer. We’re just going to have to try the next one and hope for the best.

The next vehicle to arrive is a truck, probably coming from the Holyhead ferry. On the side it has a picture of a cow and the writing mentions something about butter. Poppy goes first and I follow after. In the artificial light of the station I realise what a mess we look. Poppy has mud all down one side of her jeans.

“Hey,” she says to the lorry driver, who looks tired and unshaven. “Can you give us a lift?” The man looks us up and down. When he speaks he has a strong Irish accent.

“And where would you two be going at this time of night?”

“Anywhere, just off the island,” then, perhaps sensing the man needs to know more, she adds, “We’re heading to Manchester.” The man just nods, focusing on finishing filling his tank.

“And what about your shy friend there?” he asks, nodding towards me. I move closer so he can see me. There’s no point trying to hide. There are probably cameras all over the station but it would take them an age to get the video and by then we’d be long gone.

“What happened to you?” he points to my cut lip. I’m guessing I have bruises as well.

Before I can answer Poppy speaks, “Her dad did it,” she says, taking me by the hand, “when he found out about us.”

My heart’s in my mouth as she squeezes my hand. For a moment I’m sure she’s said the wrong thing then the man speaks, “My old da' used to knock me about me as well,” his voice is kind and full of sympathy. He finishes with the petrol pump and then puts it back in its holder.

He turns and opens the truck door, “Get in,” he says, “I can take you as far as Crewe. You'll be able to get a lift the rest of the way to Manchester from there.” He waves away our thank yous and adds, “do you want anything from the shop?”

“No, but thank you so much!” I say gratefully.

“Maybe some chocolate for Emma, she needs it for the shock,” Poppy says unexpectedly.

The man smiles, “Aye, that would be about right. Coffee?” I just nod. “My name’s Colin.” Poppy introduces us both. As we pull out the first of the helicopters reaches the station and Colin turns to me.

“Just who the hell is your dad?”

It’s nearly six am by the time we arrive outside a dark, foreboding Victorian house in Sale. The businessman, Stuart, who drops us off looks bleary eyed and thanks us for keeping him awake. He’s heading back to his young family in Preston. We go up to the front door. From the list of names in the buzzer I see the house is split into a number of different flats. Poppy pulls out a loose brick in the garden wall and retrieves a key.

“Julia set this place up when we came up with the plan to rescue you. We can lie low here.”

We go around the back and open the door to the basement flat. The roof is low and the flat is dark. When Poppy flicks the lights on, I see it’s little more than a bedsit. There’s a mattress on raised platform for a bed, but there’s no bedding. There is also a little table with two seats and a small kitchen. I crash on the bed realising I haven’t slept properly since Swansea. Poppy disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a ‘burner’ style mobile phone. She plugs the charger into a wall socket and then begins charging it. Then she comes and lies next to me on the bed. I put my head on her shoulder and we hug. Neither of us speaks.

I must have dozed off because when I wake up the sun has risen. Poppy is sitting on the edge of the bed typing something into the phone.

“What are you doing?” She jumps a little when I speak.

“Just texting Julia,” she replies, turning to me. “She’s driving around trying to make sure no one is following her.”

The thought of seeing Julia fills me with hope. It seems such a long time since we were together. The minutes seem to pass extra slowly. We left our bags behind in the cabin when we fled so I have nothing to distract me. I try to go back to sleep but, although I feel tired, I can’t. Eventually, after what seems an age, I hear a quiet knock at the door. Poppy gets up and goes and looks through the spyhole.

“It’s her,” she says and I relax. I see Julia before she sees me. She looks tired, her face lined with worry. Her pregnancy is much more visible now. The tired look disappears when she catches sight of me. We almost run to each other and hug. I’m crying as she squeezes me tightly.

“I am so sorry.” Julia is in tears as well. “I should have never let them take you!”

Julia and Poppy let me do the talking. I tell them all about Palo Alto, Martin and Carly. When I’m finished they look at each other but no one speaks for some time.

“It must be a computer program,” Poppy says.

“I remember something the doctor said,” Julia speaks slowly, as if carefully recreating the conversation in her head, “When you were in the hospital after the shooting. He said your consciousness, Mark’s that is, would have to be sent to some sort of central computer.” She goes quiet and Poppy and I both look at her. “Maybe that’s where you were?” We talk for what seems like hours. Julia shows me the growing bump of her pregnancy. I touch it feeling the life moving inside.

“It’s a boy,” she says. “We’re thinking of calling him Mark.” I start crying again.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Julia says, looking uneasy. She pauses and I wonder what she is going to say. “Richard and I are thinking about getting married.” She stops and looks at me. I realise she’s waiting for me to say something.

So here it is - my ex-wife asking me permission to marry another man. Only he’s not another man, or at least he’s a man but I’m not. And she isn’t really my ex-wife, only the wife in the memories that this body, that ‘I’, inherited.

“I think that’s bloody marvellous!” I realise all three of us are crying. Frigging girls!

I feel Julia sag with relief, “Oh thank you, thank you, I’m so happy!” she exclaims, hugging me tight. “I’ve been worrying about what you’d say for ages.” A part of me feels sad, but not about losing Julia. I feel sad because in all likelihood I won't get to see Richard and Julia married and settled. Neither will I get to see little Mark.

“I want you to be one of my bridesmaids!” Julia blurts out. “You too, Poppy. I might have to ask my friend Abi to be my maid of honour though, we’ve been friends since university.”

I hardly have time to contemplate if Lily and Edward or this Martin figure will let me attend when there’s a loud banging at the door, making us all jump. Poppy creeps to the spyhole again. A woman’s voice comes from the other side of the door.

“I know you’re in there, I can see your shadow moving across the spyhole.” Poppy curses.

“Let me in,” says the woman, “I only want to talk. It’s just me, I’m alone.” I look at Julia - she shakes her head no and Poppy does the same.

“I can have a team here in five minutes, it won’t take them long to get through the door. There’s no other way out of the flat.” I look at the windows. Like so many basement flats, they have iron bars on them to keep thieves out. Surely there should be a fire escape? Typical dodgy landlord! Again Poppy shakes her head but I nod mine.

“We’re going to have to do this some time,” I tell Julia and Poppy; they both look scared. “We can’t run forever.” I can’t keep letting other people hide me. I won't put them in danger. This ends here and now.”

As Poppy opens the door, Julia pushes me behind her, “I wont let them take my daughter, not again,” she whispers, mostly to herself I think.

The woman, who refers to herself as Ms Peters, sits on one of the chairs next to the small table with her briefcase leaning next to her feet. She’s a handsome woman somewhere in her forties. We sit on the bed, Julia and Poppy positioning themselves so they’re between Ms Peters and myself. It is as if they’re expecting her to lunge at me.

“First of all Emma, let me say how sorry I am about the way Martin treated you, Carly told me everything.” She pulls her leather gloves off and places them neatly on the table. They look out of place next to her business skirt-suit. Her voice has a mid-Atlantic accent, slightly more British than American.

“I don’t want that bastard anywhere near me again,” I clench my fists together, my knuckles turning white.

“Martin isn’t really a bad man,” Ms Peters sighs, I have the feeling this isn’t the first time she’s had to apologise for him, “but he is a little obsessed by the idea of AI. He’s been waiting a long time to meet you. He believes you hold the key.”

“So Lily and Edward were going to sell me to you?” I watch her face closely but her expression gives little away.

“Mr Livingston was, I’m afraid, yes. He recognised early on that you weren’t Chloe and saw a way to profit from the situation.” I note a certain amount of disgust in her voice. “Mrs Livingstone sadly saw you as her lost daughter. I suspect the two of them are having a pretty frank discussion right now.”

I feel bad for Lily. She’s mad as a box of frogs, but who wouldn’t be if they’d lost a child? I look over at Julia’s bump and know immediately I’d do anything for that kid. I also think of Tim and how sad he must feel losing his twin.

“Now Emma, I have a deal for you,” she continues. She watches me for a reaction but I try not to give anything away. “A deal that could see you living with Julia again. We’ll even pay to age your body, and sort out the legal side.” She turns to look at Poppy, “I think sixteen would be an appropriate age.” Poppy blushes.

“How would that work?” Julia asks using her lawyer’s voice. I suspect that, like me, she feels the deal sounds too good to be true.

Ms Peters picks up her expensive looking briefcase and places it on a table before carefully taking out a small key and unlocking it. The latches on the briefcase make a snapping sound as she undoes them. She then takes out a small folder and hands it to Julia.

I watch Julia’s face; it looks like she doesn’t believe that what she’s holding is real. It’s made up of several sheets of paper held together by a silver paperclip. Poppy and I watch in silence as Julia flips through the pages. From the corner of my eye I can see Ms Peters watching us intently. Finally Julia makes a grunting noise and passes the document to me and Poppy. I can see anger flaring up in her eyes.

“So, what you have is a contract, signed by Edward Livingston, for all intents and purposes ‘selling’ Emma to your company.” Julia’s eyes never leave Ms Peters, not for one second.

“How is that even possible? They can’t just do that. I’m a person, a human.” I look from Julia to Ms Peters and back again.

“Technically, you’re correct of course,” says Ms Peters seemingly unfazed by all the attention. “However what this document here does,” handing another slim folder to Julia, “is declare Emma mentally unfit and puts her in our care. It says, Emma, that the Chloe programming has failed and that, as such you would no longer be classed as a full person. Once Martin had his hands on you I’m afraid he would have been able to program you to say, or do, whatever he felt necessary to keep you under his control.”

“You monster!” Poppy yells, speaking for the first time. Ms Peters shakes her head.

“I am not Martin.” She puts a hand up to silence Poppy then turns to look at me. “Emma, I have worked in this industry for many years and I’ve seen what some men will do to a young woman. Just take a look at any hard core gaming site if you don’t believe me. Many are what most people would call nerds and either they have little experience of women and see us as objects, or they’ve built up anger issues. Whatever else you may think of me, you should know I have no intention of letting you fall into the hands of someone like that.” I see something, an emotion, flicker across Ms Peter’s face and I wonder if there’s a story there. “You used to work in the music industry when you were Mark, so you may know something about what I mean?” I drop my head; I’ve heard the stories.

“My offer is this, Emma. As you know we believe that your unique circumstances may provide us with the opportunity at a major breakthrough in AI technology. In return for your agreeing to attend one of our research facilities once a month for the next two years...” she sees Julia beginning to protest, “...with proper parent / guardian supervision of course, we will sort out the legal side of things so you can live the rest of your life as Emma Riley, the daughter of Julia Riley. We will see that you are legally classed as a sixteen year old and once our experiments are finished in two years time you will be free to go and live your life. We’ll even pay for regular counselling sessions, to make sure you’re given the support you need.”

Julia and Poppy look at me, “How do I know you won't re-program me to get me to agree to spending even longer with you?” I ask warily.

Ms Peters takes yet more documents out of her briefcase and hands them to Julia, “This is our contract, you’ll see that we stipulate the removal of all control elements.”

My counsellor lives in West Didsbury. When Mark was in his twenties West Didsbury was bedsitter territory, now it has become a mini ‘Primrose-Hill-of-the-North’ with boutiques, trendy bars and high house prices. I take the tram over after school; Julia always offers to drive me but I prefer to have the thinking time. Anyway she has her arms full with baby Mark and the twins. As usual I arrive early and find myself walking around the streets several times. The inviting shops and the leafy tree lined avenues seem at odds with my feelings of trepidation.

As Emma I seem to have a preoccupation with being on time, unlike Mark. I knock gingerly on the front door of Miriam’s house and practice. I can hear her moving around in the corridor. Part of me wants to bolt but I stay. Then the door is opened and it’s too late.

“Hello, Emma.” Miriam’s voice is bright and welcoming. She’s a tall woman; her height makes me feel even younger and more foolish. I realise I’m still in my school uniform and wish I’d brought a change of clothing.

“Shall we go through?” she asks. The usual greetings such as ‘how are you?’, ‘how was your week?’ are suspended until the session has started. I sit on the sofa. She sits in the chair opposite me. Looking around the room I see a large cuddly bear and some children’s drawing materials. They remind me that Miriam deals mainly with young children.

The first half of the session passes easily enough. I talk mostly about Poppy. I can see she approves of her, often praising the way she has supported me. About halfway through she changes tack.

“So Emma, I was contacted by Mr,” she looks down at her notes for the first time, “Hulse. He told me there was an incident at school?” I nod; I’ve been dreading this. “You’ve just started the new school year...” This is an open ended statement and at first I don’t say anything. She just looks at me silently. Her quiet patience makes me anxious and I have to fill the void.

“A car backfired during P.E.” Still silence from her. “I guess it made me jump.”

“And what did the car signify to you?” she asks, smiling calmly. I want to say it signified a car backfiring, but my need to please kicks in. I struggle to think.

“The car,” I shudder a little and my voice goes quiet, “the one they bundled me into…” my voice trails off.

“Your kidnapping, the one back in autumn last year. ” Again this is both a statement and a question. I nod and once more the silence descends.

“It’s funny,” I start speaking almost without knowing it, “but that was when I started truly feeling like Emma. I mean, not just accepting I was in Emma’s body but feeling as if Emma was me.” She smiles again, the smile that I know means she wants me to go on. “I had to accept that my new body, the size the… gender now was part of what defined me. At least to others.”

Miriam leans in, “And that must have been very frightening, she says.” I’ve started crying. Damn that woman, she has me in tears every time.

“There are lots of times when I’m very happy with being Emma.” I state, a little defensively.

“When are those?” she asks, her voice soft and reassuring. I stifle the tears.

“When I’m with Poppy...” Miriam nods; she knows our relationship is physical since I legally turned sixteen over the summer. “When Julia holds me as her daughter. When I’m playing with Oscar and Alfie. Hanging out with Greta and her boyfriend. When I’m with the band.” It dawns on me how much I like being Emma. The tears have dried up.

“Did you ever want to be a girl back when you were Mark?” Miriam’s question blindsides me.

“No.” My mind is blank. “I mean... I think most teenage boys wonder what it’s like. Especially if you’re shy, I think you can be envious of girls having guys ask them out and not having to do the asking.” I’m rambling, but suddenly something hits me. “I think, after my mum and dad died - Mark’s mum and dad,” I clarify, “I think I envied the way women could talk about their emotions,” Miriam nods, “and that they could show weakness without being ridiculed.”

It’s the end of the school day and the second week back. I am borne out of the gates by the throng of excited pupils. Their voices are loud with the gossip of summer and the strangeness of the new term. I turn left at the gates and walk towards the entrance of South Manchester College. It’ll be another hour before Poppy and our friends are let out so I head towards our rendezvous point, behind the bike shed.

It’s still odd, Poppy, Esse, Pete and the gang being at college while I’m stuck in school for another year. I have to be grateful they let me take the end of last year off as a sabbatical and redo my GCSE year now. I feel self-conscious standing there in my school uniform so I take off my tie and fasten my duffel coat closed in the hope it disguises the uniform. I needn’t have worried. A couple of lads look my way but no one really pays me any attention.

My phone starts vibrating in my bag and it takes me a few moments to find it. There’s a text from Tim. I open it to see a selfie of him, Jessie and Billy. Behind them is water and spots of rain have got onto the lens. They must have taken Tim’s rowing boat out on the Thames. I smile at how closely Billy and Jessie’s heads are pressed together. While the boys are looking directly into the phone Jessie is looking sideways at Billy. She is clearly very happy. I save the picture in my phone next to a photo of Noah and Christina hanging out with their friends Robi and Emily at my sixteenth birthday party. I stroke the edge of the picture feeling happy.

Poppy creeps up behind me, grabbing me by the waist. I nearly jump out of my skin, but when I turn around I find myself falling easily into her arms.

“Hey you,” I say softly, “How’s your day been?” She just grins, leans in and kisses me. I can feel the rough brick of the bike shed against my back. Her hands squeeze my buttocks making me groan.

“Fancy a puff?” she asks, pulling out a pre-rolled joint.

“We don’t have time. We've got to get back to try on our bridesmaid’s dresses, and then the others are coming over,” I admonish her. Julia and Richard are taking the twins down to Birmingham tonight to spend some time with one of Julia’s friends. We walk back to the new house slowly.

“Does it feel weird to be going back to school?” Poppy asks.

“At first.” I think for a little while then add, “I was worried how the other kids would treat me but they seem okay.” I think most of them see me as some sort of celebrity, the girl who was kidnapped twice in one year. They don’t know the full story of course, which lends me an air of mystery amongst my classmates.

“And the counselling’s still going well?” Poppy looks closely at me forcing me to turn away.

“Yeah, it helps,” I mumble. I still don’t feel up to talking about it. The counselling sessions are tough. My emotions feel raw for a long time afterwards. But I haven’t had any panic attacks recently and my general anxiety level seems to be down.

“Hey, we’re home!” I call out as we come through the front door. The twins come tearing down the stairs. Alfie is wearing an Ironman costume and Oscar is Spiderman. Both are those costumes with the fake muscles. They make them look strange, like miniature body builders. Oscar shouts something at me then jumps. I catch him and manage to lift him up for a few seconds before staggering backwards.

“I’m going to get you, Ironman!” Poppy shouts in her best bad-guy voice. Alfie screams in delight and hurtles off in the direction of the living room.

The living room is a strange mix of different styled furniture. It combines a mix of Julia's and Richard's old stuff, plus a load of new crap bought from Ikea. Everything is still in flux since the move just under a month ago.

“Hey girls!” I hear Julia’s voice from the conservatory. Julia comes into the room, carrying baby Mark in her arms as I dump my bag next to the sofa. I think she looks radiant as I take little Markie from her arms and cradle him in mine.

“Are you ready to try on your dresses?” Poppy looks excited while inside I share Alfie and Oscar’s groans.

While Poppy looks at her dress, Julia takes me to one side, “I want to give you something,” she says. I just look at her not knowing what she’s talking about. “Come with me,” she adds, taking Mark back and then grabbing me by the hand. “You’re okay looking after the boys for five minutes, aren’t you?” she asks Poppy.

“Who fancies Skyliners?” Poppy asks the boys, who jump up cheering and dash over to the games consul.

Julia leads me up the stairs and into her and Richard’s room. It is a mess with piles of clothing on the floor. I notice that the pile of Julia’s clothes is more than twice the size of Richard's. Some things never change. I watch how carefully she places Little Mark in his crib. He looks up at us both gurgling and smiling. Perhaps it is just wind?

“Come over here,” Julia says, gesturing for me to come join her at the dressing table. Looking out of the window I can see the kids from next door playing in their front garden. She sits down on the little chair and then scoots over a little to make space for me to join her. I can feel the warmth of her body as I squeeze in next to her.

“Look what I found as we were unpacking.” She holds up a small silver necklace. I recognise it as her grandmother’s necklace. “My mother gave me this, and it was her mother’s before that.” I nod silently as I watch the silver bird swinging in the late sun. She turns to me and smiles.

“Now I want it to be yours,” she says.

“No, I can’t...” I shake my head, trying to get the thought out of my head as if it might bite.

“Yes you can,” she says softly as she takes my hand and places the necklace in my palm. She closes my fingers around it and speaks passionately. “You’re my daughter. The child of Mark and me, the man I loved.” Her voice softens. Has she’s noticed that I am crying? “I want this to stay in my family, and you are my family.” We hug for several minutes.

“Do you want a few moments to compose yourself before coming down?” Julia asks. I nod, smiling at her and trying to stifle a sniffle.

“I’m going to wear this at your wedding,” I say. She strokes my cheek, wiping away a tear.

I feel a little like a dress up doll as Julia and Poppy try to get me into the lilac bridesmaid dress. They’ve found mutual ground in making their own clothes and embarrassing me.

“I can’t believe it, I’m going to have to take it in again,” Julia mutters. “You’re very lucky with your weight.” She and Poppy exchange looks of mild annoyance.

Peter and Esse arrive just before Julia, Richard and the boys leave. The house is in chaos as Richard tries to herd the twins into the car and Julia runs around stuffing items into a bag.

“You’re only going for two nights,” I admonish her. She ignores me before turning white. “Underwear, I forgot the boy’s underwear!” she mutters as she rushes upstairs.

Esse, Pete, Poppy and me sit in the lounge watching the chaos around us. Richard comes up to me; he looks tired from the battle of getting the boys in their car seats. He only managed it by agreeing to let them wear their Star Wars onesies. Baby Mark is strapped to his chest in one of those baby carrier things.

“Everything okay?” I ask. He runs his hands through his greying hair.

“Nearly there,” he sighs, pulling out his wallet and handing me forty pounds. “Here’s some money for pizza,” he says. “There’s also a couple of crates of beer in the fridge,” he adds, lowering his voice. I take the money as everyone says thanks. I know for a fact Poppy has a bottle of vodka in her bag and suspect Esse and Peter have brought something too.

As Richard calls for Julia I spot a text, this time from Lily. It is polite and to the point, saying she’s looking forward to visiting Manchester for another day out and thanking me for staying in touch. Poppy and Julia are not best pleased I’ve kept up communication with her. I just see the tired, broken woman from the second set of court hearings. Chloe’s a part of me and she’s still Chloe’s mum. I remember how sad and beaten she looked as Edward was charged. How I’d caught them arguing in the corridor, with Edward called her a bitch for filing for divorce. How she had cried when she saw me.

“Okay, then,” Julia says, popping her head around the door, “I think that’s it.” She looks at Richard before adding, “We’re off.” She looks a little worried as she looks around our little group. “Everyone be good.”

“We will,” I say trying to steer them out of the door. Left alone we begin to make plans for the night. Peter and Esse are going to be sleeping in my room and Poppy and me will be taking Julia and Richard’s. Total freedom for the whole weekend! As Esse and Poppy go off to order the pizza (I suspect the two best friends want to gossip) Peter and I flick through Netflix looking for something to watch.

“Do you think the Godfather II will be as good as the first one?” Peter asks me. Ah, kid, you’ve got so much to look forward to.

“Even better,” I reply. Peter looks as if he doesn’t believe me.

“Have you ever seen the Sopranos?” He’s going through something of a gangster phase.

“Yeah, I love the Sopranos, where are you up to?” I reply eagerly, realising that I sound like an excited teenage fan girl and not caring one bit.

“I’ve reached the last series - I wonder how it’s going to end?” I just shrug not wanting to give the game away.

“Ta-da!” We turn to see Poppy holding the living room door open. Through it comes Esse carrying a tray with four strong looking cocktails.

I wake up. The clock on my phone tells me it’s four twenty-eight am. My head’s still groggy from all the drink. Outside the house I can hear the sound of a distant siren. It holds me awake, my breathing slow as I wonder if I’m about to be transported back to Palo Alto and Martin Cerberia.

Poppy’s asleep next to me, her arm across me. She twitches slightly rubbing her body against mine. The siren gets closer and closer until, for just a moment, the room is bathed in a pulsating blue light. Then the ambulance passes and the siren grows more distant. I no longer hear the voices of the onlookers as Mark lay dying.

With the siren gone I can hear Poppy’s gentle snoring. Her breath is warm on my neck as she spoons me. Slowly I feel sleep coming. I can relax now. Mark Healey has passed on, not to be forgotten, and Emma Riley is set free.

The scene fades to black.