Chapter 4

A strange girl appears in the dead of night. She can’t speak or remember where she has been, what could her secret be?

In this chapter Ash finds his way to a strange place and Jack meets some old friends

* As always thank you to Robyn and Chris for taking their time to help, and to all of you who leave comments and send messages. Your support really does make a difference *

Unseen People

Chapter 4

Ash followed the mist. He had no idea how long he had been staggering around. He had heard of pilots who flew into clouds and got so disorientated that they came out flying inverted. He knew how they felt as he stumbled around blindly. He heard shouts in the distance.

His feet slid around in the large wellingtons he had found earlier. He felt like a child playing dress up in his parents’ clothes. The shouts and calls seemed to be all around him. The words sounded foreign but he recognised cruelty in their tone.

All the time his body gave him strange signals. Muscles that wouldn’t work as hard as he was used to and body parts moving in ways he didn't expect.

The fog was so thick he almost fell in the water when he reached the side of the canal. He had no idea how long it had taken him to get there. The voices were fainter. Had he lost them?

He used the edge of the canal to navigate by. Every now and then he’d see a bush or tree looming out of the dense mist. As the fog thinned slightly he was surprised to see not the backs of houses but trees and the edge of a field. Had he wandered so far? Maybe he was up in the hills? But canals are flat. Right?

A shout came from in front followed by the voices of two men. He could hear running footsteps up ahead. He tried to turn, convinced that his pursuers had found him, but he was unsteady and tripped because of his over sized boots. He tried to push himself up from the ground but his skinny arms had no strength left after pulling their way out from the monstrous plant. He turned and saw a jet-black horse and rider emerging from the fog. With the mist swirling around it looked like some sort of hell beast.

From somewhere close by he heard a high-pitched scream. It wasn’t until he was out of breath that he realised the scream had come from him.

Two burly men appeared by his side and lifted him so the rider could see. The rider wore a double-breasted coat and what looked like a shortened version of a top hat. Ash thought he must be some sort of hipster. He didn’t take in much of the rider’s face but he did notice his cool grey eyes looking him over. He was aware of the rider saying something to him but he didn’t understand.

The rider spoke to the two men who were holding him and they lifted him up to the horse's back . Ash tried to protest but his words were slurred and the rider simply held him on the horse in front of him. Ash tried to move but the rider’s arms kept him in place.

He felt panic for a moment when the rider kicked the horse into a gallop, but tiredness quickly overwhelmed him. How long had it been since he last slept? It seemed like an age. Whatever it was that happened inside that damned plant, it had not been true rest. After a while he found the moving sensation soothing. He was aware of the rider trying to say something, but again he didn’t understand the words. The last thing he remembered was his head falling back against the shoulder of his captor/saviour.

When he woke a soft hand was stroking his cheek. His eyesight was still blurred but he could see a face close to his own. He tried to sit up but a firm hand pushed him back.

“Don’t try moving child, you need to rest,” Her voice was soft but forceful. As her face came into focus he could see she was a middle-aged woman. Her long brown hair was tied back revealing a handsome face.

“Where, where am I?” he stammered.

“Hernsbridge House, sweetness,” The woman’s hand stroked his hair. He could see oak panelled walls and bookshelves behind her head.

Hernsbridge House, did she mean the college he went to? The main campus had a plaque that mentioned something about a Hernsbridge House. Ash mouthed the words ‘what’ and ‘how’ but he struggled to speak.

This couldn’t be the college however. This place looked old. His college was all new buildings.

“My son, Edward, found you when he was out riding this morning.” The rider? A fleeting memory of grey eyes came into his head, “He said you were the strangest sight he’d seen. A woman in man’s clothes,” Ash thought about the gardener’s clothing he’d taken, but why would that have made this Edward think he was female?

The woman smiled, “He said you were quite the beauty.” She placed a damp cloth on his forehead, “I can see he is right.” Beauty? An odd choice of words he thought.

The woman was wearing a green dress with long sleeves. The dress looked odd to Ash, like she had been interrupted during a formal ball. His head begun to spin, it cost him too much to think.

“How did you end up wearing men’s clothes?” The woman stroked one of his cheeks.

What an odd thing to say. He was about to answer her when another woman entered the room. She was young, perhaps eighteen or less, and wore a long black dress that covered her from her ankles to her neck and wrists. The dress was plain the only decoration a white apron pinned to the front. She wore her red hair up and under a white maid's cap.

It struck Ash, he must be in the middle of some historic enactment. He could remember his class at primary school being taken on a day trip to Quarrybank Mill.

“Is this some National Trust thing?” he asked. He touched his throat. Was his voice higher than normal?

“National Trust?” she looked bemused, “No dear,” the middle aged lady smiled at him like he was simple, “this is Hernsbridge Hall, like I said. The estate of the Godwinson family.” She looked at the maid who was standing nervously in the corner. “What is it girl?” her voice was testy, with none of the sympathy she had shown Ash.

“Please ma'am,” the maid curtsied, “Mr Edward wishes to know how our guest is?”

“Tell Edward he must wait,” she looked at Ash, “she needs more rest.”

“Will she be staying in the guest room ma'am?” The girl shot a glance at him. Only then did he realise they were speaking about him. How could they think he was female? A free stand of black hair brushed against his cheek.

“Of course Heather, you only have to look at her hands to see she is a woman of refinement.

Half in a daze Ash lifted his hands. They were longer and more delicate than he remembered. The skin was so soft you’d have trouble believing they had ever picked up anything as rough as a twig, let alone fought their way out of one of those monstrous trees. He thought of the broken reflection he had seen in that terrible place and touched his face. Could that really have been him?

Nothing made any sense to Ash after that. He must have passed out but he vaguely remembered the Heather girl supporting him as Lady Godwinson fed him some sort of fluid.

It must have been hours later when he eventually recovered consciousness. He sat up in a four-poster bed, not sure how he had got there. He raised his hand to touch his head and noticed the frilly sleeve covering his arm, it looked like something his gran would have worn. With cautious movements he got out of bed and found the frilly sleeves were attached to a billowing nightdress, the hem of which caught under his feet. He wiggled his toes noticing, how small they were. Padding over to the window the floorboards creaked underneath him as he moved. It must have been around four as it had started to get dark.

Even in the gloom and the snow, he recognised the view. He had stared out at it during many boring afternoons during lessons. Only now, where he’d expect to see the lights of the Old Mill Estate, all he saw were fields and trees. He shook his head, black hair falling and obscuring his vision. This was all too much to take in; he made his way back to bed and before he knew it was out like a light.

---

Peter Pan smiled at Jack as he came out from behind the living room door. “Hello my dear, I’m glad to finally meet you.”

He extended a pudgy hand. He wasn’t an ugly man, far from it. His pudgy cheeks only slightly hid a boyish face. His suit and coat looked expensive, making him look over dressed for Rochdale.

“You’re Peter Pan?” Isaac asked.

Peter looked at him as if noticing Isaac properly for the first time. As he answered he turned his eyes back to Jack, “Yes, I’m afraid my mother was something of a free spirit.” His mouth smiled but his eyes looked him up and down shrewdly. “I’ve learnt to lean into it,” his smile seemed to broaden if that were possible, “so to speak.”

There was silence in the hallway as the three friends looked at each other not knowing what to say.

Peter broke the spell, “May I come in?”

Both Rach and Isaac looked at Jack who gave a shallow nod.

“Splendid,” Peter spread his arms. The gesture was superficially friendly, but Jack was put in mind of a large cat about to pounce.

Peter stood waiting for Rach to mumble something before he sat down in the armchair. Jack sat between Isaac and Rach with his feet tucked underneath him. He readjusted his little skirt in a vain attempt at modesty. Jack noticed both Isaac and Rach had folded their arms defensively.

“How did you know to find Jack here?” Isaac asked bluntly.

“I have my ways,” Peter leant back drumming his fingers on the armrests.

“That’s not an answer,” Isaac sounded annoyed.

“No, it isn’t,” Peter leaned forward clearly not interested in Isaac, “Jack may I speak to you in private?” His voice was deep and rich, in contrast to his superficially young looks.

Jack looked between his two new friends, he had every reason to trust them and no good reason to trust this man with a strange name. He shook his head.

Peter watched him closely, “I appreciate that you have no reason to trust me, but what I have to say won’t take long.” He paused, “And it could help you return to where you came from,” again he left a pause, this time it was pregnant with meaning, “and to ‘who’ you were.” He looked Jack directly in the eyes.

Jack shuddered, did he know? How could he know? Jack couldn’t even tell anyone he was really male. And he had tried.

Slowly Jack nodded, not sure if he was making the right decision. Isaac started to say something but Jack silenced him by putting a hand on his. He noticed how small his looked on top of Isaac’s. The hairs on the back of Isaac’s hand contrasted the pale smoothness of Jack’s own. He pulled away quickly when he remembered how Isaac had refused him only minutes before.

Reluctantly Rach and Isaac left, closing the living room door behind them. Peter waited a while before speaking again.

“Thank you, Jack, for giving me this chance to speak to you,” The whole time he spoke Peter kept his eyes focused on Jack. Jack thought his voice sounded refined and mannered, but there was a hunger behind his words.

Isaac and Rach waited outside the door. Isaac paced back and forwards while Rach just stared at the door while sat on the stairs. It was a good twenty minutes before Peter emerged with Jack behind him. Isaac and Rach watched as the pair shook hands at the door.

“Think about what I said,” Peter said putting his coat on, “You have my number. Text me.”

---

Tom thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. The walk to the pub was only short but the weather matched his mood. It had been two weeks since he first hooked up with Wren, but now he was on his way to end it.

He felt bad. He hoped they could still be friends, but he knew there could be no future.

The football was playing as he entered and most of the patrons were crowded in the corner staring at a TV screen. He looked around at all the light blue and red shirts. It was only then he realised they had picked the night of the City versus United derby.

He was relieved to see Wren sitting on her own in the corner nursing a pint. She had already drunk half of it. She had her hair down and her fringe hung over her eyes. He wished she hadn’t done that. He always liked her hair like that. He took a deep breath and went over.

“Do you want another one?” he pointed at her pint. Her fingers enclosed the pint glass, hardly big enough to make it all the way round.

“No,” she picked at her fingers nervously, did she have some idea of what he wanted to say? How could she? Then again didn’t women always know? Perhaps she had realised a long time ago and understands, he thought hopefully.

“Don’t be silly, you’re nearly done with that one,” he watched her look down at her pint as if she was not sure what he was saying, “at least you will be by the time I get back from the bar.”

He felt it was a matter of honour now. The least he could do.

“Erm,” she paused, “okay then I suppose.’

“Back in a sec,” he felt relieved to turn away from her. The bar was nearly empty but it still took the barman ten or so minutes to serve him. As he poured the pints his eyes were fixed to the TV. In a way it couldn’t be better he thought, no one was going to be paying them any attention.

Finally back from the bar he placed two pints down and two packets of crisps. Cheese and Onion for him, a subtle hint? Prawn Cocktail for her, her favourite.

“Thanks,” She opened each packet fully and placed them in the middle of the table. She took one crisp and turned it around examining it as if she had never seen one before. She always did that he thought, sometimes it fascinated him as well, some times it drove him mad. Thinking of the later he steeled his resolve.

“Any news on that girl?” First things first.

“Jack? No, nothing since she turned up back at her mothers. Said she spent the day at a friends, it all checked out.” Wren shrugged finally placing the crisp in her mouth, she held it on her tongue before eating it whole.

“Do you think we’ll ever know what happened to her?” He took a big gulp of his beer. It tasted good, steadying his nerves.

Wren took a gulp out of her first pint, he noticed it was nearly finished, “I don’t know. She’s working with a councillor so maybe something will come out of that,” She turned to look at the TV on the other side of room. City had a free kick and the tension in the room had risen. “But that could take years, by now whoever did whatever will have covered their tracks. Anyway, everything is focused on the missing boy.”

“You mean the one who murdered his dad?” Tom said. Wren turned to look at him. She seemed to be examining his features closely.

“We don’t know that. He may just have snapped and run for it. People don’t act rationally in these situations.”

“I know,” Tom hadn’t meant to say it. He regretted the silence that fell between them.

“You think much about your wife?” Her voice was soft, “The one who died I mean.” She always knew how to throw him.

“Every day,” he looked at the football, City were building pressure on the United defence, you could feel a goal coming. “Usually something small.” He thought of the silver framed photo he kept by his bed and how he had hidden it the two times Wren had stayed over. Like he didn’t want her to see what he was doing. That he was letting her down.

He had been silent for too long, Wren reached out and touched his fingers with her own. His resolve disappeared, perhaps they couldn’t last forever but what was wrong with keeping it going for a little longer? After all, he could speak to Wren in a way he couldn’t speak to anyone else.

They lapsed into a comfortable routine, half watching the match half chatting about their lives. Tom felt so glad he had been able to stay the execution, he insisted on buying the next round as well. Wren looked uncomfortable with this and he liked her even more for her independence. He thought again of Alina and how the two of them would have got on well.

Towards the end of the night Wren went a little silent. He tried to prod her, wondering what the problem was.

“Tom,” she looked at him but then had to look away immediately.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, “ The room was filled with the chants of the City fans willing the referee to blow the final whistle and cries from United fans begging their team to pull it back out of nowhere. “I just,” she looked back at him, swaying, a little after the beer, “I can’t keep doing this. Us, I mean.”

She must have seen the hurt on his face and tried to grab his hand to console him. The air is filled with the cheers of United fans as their team is given a free kick on the edge of the penalty box in the dying minutes of extra time.

Tom didn’t notice the football, all he could see was Wren. How had he not seen this coming?

“I, I’m sorry. It’s just too complicated with us both working… with us both seeing what we see. I need something less complicated…” her words disappeared as she spoke them. He could see how sheepish she looked. He hoped she knew how stupid she sounded.

“I… I have to go.” There is a loud grown from the United supporters as the ball sails over the bar, “I’m sorry.” As she passes him she stops for a moment and places a hand on his shoulder, “I hope we can still be friends.” Then she was gone.

---

Jack looked at his hair in the mirror. The hairdresser had done her best but the pixie cut still looked severe. He traced the line of his fringe with a finger.

“You look lovely, love,”

He jumped, he hadn’t realised that his mum was standing at the bathroom door. He was still shy about admitting the time he spent on appearance. In the two weeks he had been back home he had been left alone a lot. His mother worked at the local library, a new development since he disappeared. This left him banging around the big empty house all on his own most of the day.

At first he had only taken an interest in his new appearance out of sheer boredom, and his inability to figure out the TV. In the time he had been away TVs had become much larger, louder and more complex, requiring several remotes and needing what Jack felt would have to be at least a GNVQ in engineering to operate successfully.

Slowly he had become more and more taken in. There was this new thing called ‘YouTube’ that offered him tutorials in how to apply make-up. It made him feel like a clown, but he had to learn to fit in, at least until he could figure a way out of all of this. Still, he hadn’t felt brave enough to wear it outside the house.

“I thought you must have been trying my make-up.”

Jack watched his mother through the mirror. He had been careful to try and cover his tracks, not using too much of any one thing or another.

“It reminded me of when you were a little girl,” his mum smiled, “You were always getting into my wardrobe, wanting to be like the bigger girls.”

Jack froze, not knowing what to do. His mother put her hand on his shoulder.

“I wonder if you remember any of that?” she spoke softly.

He didn’t. He remembered playing in the sand with his Action Man and building spaceships out of Lego.

There was the sound of an artificial harp. Jack looked down at his new mobile phone. Something else for him to get used to. The way you could swipe it left and right and connect to this World Wide Web thing made it seem so futuristic.

He took the phone and read the message.

Rach: U on for tnght hn? XXXXXXX

His mum glanced over his shoulder, “This the party in South Manchester?”

Jack looked at her and nodded. Part of him wanted her to tell him he couldn’t go. He wasn’t sure he was ready to be around so many people so soon.

“I think it’ll be good for you,” she smiled but he could see a glint of worry in her eyes, “I’ll let you get ready.”

He headed back into his room and crossed his arms. Three outfits were laid out on his bed. The first was his dungarees, the second involved a pair of skinny jeans and the third… Well the third was a dress. A short dress at that. He picked up each option in turn and placed it against himself looking in the long mirror. No wonder women are so body conscious, he thought. Why do they need bloody mirrors everywhere?

When he came to the final choice, he hesitated. It was stupid he knew. There was no reason to go in the dress, after all most of the women there would be in jeans or similar. But, and he hated to admit to himself that there was a but, this would be the first time he had seen Isaac in weeks. The first time since he had said no.

He didn’t know why he was so annoyed at Isaac. He told himself it was because he felt let down, that Isaac had failed him as a friend. But in the dead of night he lay awake and knew Isaac had been good to him, even risking his job to protect him. It was he who was being the bad friend, ignoring Isaac since that night. For some reason the thought only made him angrier.

When the doorbell rang Jack sped down the stairs and past his mum.

“Wait,” she said. Jack froze expecting to be picked up on his appearance. His mum held him by his shoulders looking him up and down appraisingly. He expected her to tell him to get up those stairs and change into something less revealing. Part of him wanted her to.

“You look lovely,” she beamed at him. Despite himself Jack couldn’t help but smile back. He quickly looked away. Outside a car horn sounded.

He nodded his head towards the door trying to indicate he had to go. He still couldn’t look at her directly, somehow he felt like he was letting her down. Turning, he opened the front door. Rach was standing there waiting for him.

“Hello Miss Sheppard!” she waved brightly.

“It’s Ms Rees dear,” his mum said not unkindly, “You’ll look after my Jack won't you.” Jack blushed, feeling like a teenager.

As they walked to the car he felt the cold winter wind through his short skirt. He wished he had worn thicker tights, or the skinny jeans, or anything! What had he been thinking?

---

Ten minutes after Jack and Rach left there were two little knocks on the front door. Jenny looked up at the clock in the kitchen and sighed. She should have expected them. She turned off the heat on the stove so as not to spoil her lentil soup and went to the door.

“Hello Jack’s mum.” Jenny wasn’t surprised to see two little, hopeful faces looking up at her.

“Can we come in?” the taller Brownie asked.

“Can we have more milk?” the smaller one asked hopefully.

“Of course,” She stood back to let them in.

Back in the kitchen she watched them warily as they lapped up their milk. The little one went at it like she hadn’t eaten in days. Both looked happy.

“You’ve been busy?”

The taller one stopped, looked up and nodded.

“More girls going missing?”

The taller one shook her head.

“Really?” Jenny took a small sip from her coffee. The little garden was dark and still, frost already forming on the leaves of the plants. “How about I give you cereal? I have Coco Pops.”

Both looked up at her, standing on all fours they reminded Jenny of cats.

“What’s cereal?” asked the smaller one. The expression on her face suggested she suspected a trap.

“Food,” she explained, “that you eat with milk.”

The two Brownies looked at each other excitedly. They turned to Jenny and nodded.

“You have to sit at the table,” she indicated the little kitchen table, “and from bowls… with spoons.”

Slowly and cautiously the pair went over and sat at the table. Once they were still Jenny put two bowls of Coco Pops in front of them. The little one squealed in delights.

“It turns the milk chocolaty!” She exclaimed.

Jenny just nodded. “So, if girls aren’t going missing, what is going on?”

Both Brownies were stuffing Coco Pops into their mouths as if there was no tomorrow. Between mouthfuls the tallest answered, “Another girl escaped.” Chocolate flavoured milk and cereal dribbled down her chin, “They aren’t happy.”

“Who isn’t happy,” Jenny took a cloth and wiped the Brownie's chin. She didn’t look happy about it but let her.

“Who isn’t happy about it?”

The little one let out a huge belch and showed Jenny her empty bowl, “Do you have any more of these? They are brilliant.” Her companion nodded her head vigorously in agreement.

Jenny got up and held up the bowls in front of them, “One more bowl each for more information. Who are the gardeners?”

The two Brownies watched the packet like hungry dogs watching their master eat a steak. “Okay,” they both said.

“The gardeners are new,” The tallest expands.

“New? How do you mean. Elf, dwarf, Troll?”

“All,” they both answered.

“All?” Jenny parroted, “What do they want?”

“We gave you information. We want food now,” said the smaller one. There was silence for a moment then both the Brownies spoke in unison, “Please.”

She sighed and refilled their bowls. She sat at the third chair around the table and watched them eat. They seemed as hungry as before.

“I can let you have the box,”

“Would you?” pure, child-like happiness spread across their faces. Jenny knew they weren’t really children, and she was more than a little aware they had done bad things, probably very bad, but it was hard not to find them a little cute.

“Sure,” she smiled, feeling the tiredness in her body, “You look like you need feeding up.”

“Can I ask you both one more thing?” she watched them closely. After a few moments she decided to take their silence as agreement. “Why are these Gardeners doing all this?”

“Change,” answered the tallest Brownie.

“Too much change,” the smallest clarified.

Before Jenny could add anything more the tallest spoke again, “We have a question for you now.”

“You want to know about Jack right?”

They both nodded silently.

“You don’t have to worry, she’ll be ready for you when the time comes to collect.”

That moment the kettle started whistling, which was odd as it was an automatic electric one. (we had an electric kettle that whistled)Jenny turned to see what was happening. By the time she had unplugged the damned thing and turned back, the Brownies had disappeared, along with the Coco Pops and her carton of milk.

Jenny sighed, why did they always have to do that? She picked up their two bowls and started washing them in the sink. As she scrubbed them she saw something small, blue and red running through the garden. Gnomes, she thought. She'd have to get the pest control man to put some traps down or they would dig up all her potatoes.

Returning to the little table with a packet of cigs she noticed a scrap of paper. Turning it over she saw some writing on the back. The scratchy letters and poorly formed shapes told her the Brownies had left it for her.

‘Beware the shaman,’ it said.

She lit a cigarette and turned the piece of paper over and over. She didn’t detect any special magic there. What could it mean?

---

“Es are good, Es are good,” the music blared out of the radio as the car sped through the early evening traffic. The party was in West Didsbury, which meant taking the ring road right around the city. He felt odd to be squashed into a little car full of girls. He felt even odder being one of them.

Rach pulled out a bottle of own-brand vodka from her purse and passed it to him.

“Come on girl,” she said over the excited voices of the other women, “you are playing catch up.”

Jack took a swig of the cheap booze. It burned as it went down the back of his throat. How long had it been since he had last drunk anything? It must have been during the last century. Hell, the first time he had drunk, some of the people in the car wouldn’t have even been born.

Rach introduced everyone. The black girl in the driving seat was called Danielle. She spoke at a million miles a minute telling Jack about her internship at a local radio station. She was warm and friendly but Jack was left in no doubt she could fill any dead air. Sitting next to her was a slightly older looking woman, perhaps in her mid twenties. Her hair was died red and purple and her look was what Jack would describe as ‘Goth’. Her name was Martina and she seemed quiet, hardly speaking for most of the journey, although she laughed at most of the jokes.

The girl next to Jack was called Esse. A tall black girl who spoke with a mixture of a West African and Mancunian accent.

“Esse’s band are playing at the party,” Rach informed her, “they’re really good.”

Jack smiled at Esse not being able to say anything.

“You’re a quiet one,” Esse turned to look at him. Not an easy thing to do in such a small car.

Rach came to her rescue, “She can’t speak, not since her err… accident.”

“Really?” Esse said with surprise.

Jack held up his notebook showing the page that said I can’t Speak. I am mute

“Well,” said Esse, “that is a turn up for the books.”

They parked the car on one of the small side streets off Burton Road. As he climbed out of the car Jack noticed a number of people coming out of a building that looked large compared to the scale of the houses next to it. He realised they were Jewish from the little hats the men were wearing. One of the older women smiled at him as his new friends piled out of the car hardly noticing what was going on around them. So many lives going on, so much that must have happened since he disappeared. He felt anger building up in side of him, like something had been stolen from him.

West Didsbury had completely changed since he was last here. Gone was the feeling of bedsits and post-student malaise. Now it felt like somewhere in West London. All expensive looking bars and shops. So much change.

The house they wanted was on the corner of a small side street. It was large and squat with light shinning out from the frost covered windows. There were people noisily enjoying themselves in the back yard despite the cold. They entered through the front door into a packed hallway. It felt to Jack like everyone was towering over him. He pulled his jacket close around him wishing again he had been more conservative in his choices.

Guys stood like tall stone statues not moving out of his and his friends' way as they pushed forward. A young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, waved at Esse when they made it into the living room. In the corner someone had set up a drum kit and amps. Jack felt his pulse rate rising. He dared not look around to see who was there.

“Gang, I want you to meet my guitarist,” Esse gestured around. “This is Emma, and her girlfriend Poppy.”

Jack stood at the back of the group as the two new women introduced themselves. So many new people, Jack felt out of place.

“Hi,” Jack realised Emma was speaking to him, offering him her hand. Jack smiled, feeling lame just taking her hand without being able to speak. She was shorter than Jack although she seemed confident and relaxed. She wore an unzipped grey hoodie and a T-shirt that said ‘Breaking Bad’ and had a stylised drawing of man in a black hat. Jack didn’t know if they were a band or something. Her hair was cut short, although not as short as Jack’s and dyed a mixture of silver and white. Jack looked at her black jeans. She didn’t understand why everyone in the future wanted their legs to look like pipe cleaners but he was envious of the leg-cover as he felt the fabric of his skirt stretch tightly against his thighs.

“She can’t speak,” Esse cut in. Emma and Poppy looked surprised. “Some sort of accident,” she looked at Jack for confirmation. He just shrugged as if to say ‘close enough.’

After everyone had been introduced, Esse, Emma and Poppy turned away to discuss band stuff. That’s when Jack saw him.

Isaac was standing talking to a girl in a tight T-shirt. Jack felt an overpowering desire to punch her in the throat. He watched as she laughed, touching Isaac gently on his arm.

“Pull the daggers back in girl,” Rach whispered to him, “You don’t want him to think you are desperate.”

Jack felt flustered, but was unable to say anything or make an excuse.

“I know you like him,” Rach said with a wry grin, “but you can’t make it too obvious.” She paused for a moment as if considering something, “Isaac is very special,” she held his hand, “you need to take your time with him.”

All pretence about what he was here for was gone. He didn’t know why but something made him want Isaac, perhaps it was just bruised ego. The alcohol was doing its job and loosening him up.

He may have been sleeping for a decade or more but he knew the score. He had to dance with everyone except Isaac and hope he got the hint. The band started up and the room became crowded. First Jack danced with Rach and her friends but after a couple of numbers, and three more glugs on the vodka he braved dancing with a couple of boys.

It felt odd and frightening, but more like the fear you get riding on a rollercoaster than real fear. The first boy was a skinny student type in a Smiths T-shirt. His hair was long but cut well. Everyone seemed to have better hair in the future. He danced close to Jack but didn’t really invade his space. The only times they touched was when they were bumped together by the other dancers. When the band finished playing The Witch by The Sonics he faded away into the crowd.

As the bass line to Rock Lobster by the B52s started up, a second guy came up to her. This one was taller and more imposing than the first. He was at least a foot taller than Jack, and by women’s standards, Jack wasn’t small. It wasn’t just his height, his shoulders were broad and chest muscular. Back before Jack disappeared only the most vain men spent so much time buffing themselves up. Things had obviously changed.

This new man obviously had no problems with touching. He kept bumping and grinding closer and closer to Jack. He felt himself grow warmer, feeling betrayed by his body as a tingling sensation grew from his groin to his breasts. The room filled as more people were attracted by the music. They were dancing so close together he could feel the man’s breath on his skin. He looked around but there were now several people between him and Rach. He felt a pang of fear, but also a little thrill.

Then the man put his hands on Jack’s hips pulling him closer. This was too much; it was all going too fast. He tried to pull away but couldn’t, the man’s grip was too strong. He put his hands against the man’s chest to try and push away but he misinterpreted this and pulled Jack closer.

Jack was shaking his head to try to say no, but was only too aware this probably looked like part of his dancing to anyone else.

“Ow, fuck. You bitch!” The guy’s shouts were loud enough to be heard over the sound of the band. “Why the fuck did you stamp on my toe!” Jack pushed back but the guy loomed over him.

“Get the fuck back!” the guitarist from the band shouted, the music stopping. It was impressive seeing such a short young woman looking so angry.

“Hey, she could have said no. She was dancing with me!” The guy seemed uncertain now. The whole room was looking at him.

“She can’t speak, you idiot,” Rach pushed herself between the two of them, “she’s mute.”

“Get the fuck back,” this time it was Isaac speaking he stood next to the guy. He was so much smaller and skinnier than the guy, hardly bigger than Jack, but that just made him seem all the braver in Jack’s eyes. If he hadn’t fallen for him before, he did now.

“Okay, okay, “ the guy backed away. He turned to the whole room, “My bad. I misread the situation.”

The guitarist shot him a dirty look but slowly the room turned back to normal. The band began playing again and they were forgotten in the crowd.

“Are you okay?” Rach shouted into Jack’s ear. He nodded but didn’t take his eyes off Isaac who looked a little sheepish under his gaze.

“Sorry,” said Isaac looking away, “I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t handle the situation by yourself…” his voice trailed away.

Jack grabbed his hand and pulled him away. As they left the room he turned and gave a little wave to Rach who smiled back. Jack caught a glimpse of Isaac’s face, he looked bemused but not unhappy.

They found a quiet spot near the back of the kitchen not far from the backdoor. They had to put up with people coming in and out but for the most part they were left alone. At one point Jack caught sight of the guy from the dance floor. He looked a little sheepish but otherwise unharmed by his experience. Jack wished he’d hit him harder.

After an hour or two, and a few more drinks. Jack’s note pad was full of writing and little drawings. The pair were only communicating through it, keeping their conversation private.

With space running out Jack realised he needed to take his chance. His head spinning a little from the alcohol he took the notepad and wrote:

Why didn’t you want to kiss me?

Handing the notepad to Isaac Jack picked up his can of larger. He sipped it slowly tasting his lipstick mixing with the flat beer. He tried to judge Isaac’s expression as he read it but couldn’t. Isaac started writing a reply but wouldn’t let him see till he was finished.

Eventually Isaac handed back the notepad. Jack fumbled with it in his hands. He could remember his first real girlfriend Sally and how he felt the first time he had tried to kiss her. This was that, but times ten. He looked down.

I did want to kiss you, but there’s something I need to tell you about me. Something different.

Aids, drugs, he’s a member of the Young Tories? Jack felt nervous about what he was about to find out. (worse! a member of UKIP? ;) )

What? He scribbled down and then passed the book back.

It took Isaac a few minutes to write something down but when he passed the book back there were only three words.

I am transgender

Oh, he thought. The alcohol was making his head swim a little. So he was a boy in a girl’s body who has woken up after nearly twenty years and Isaac was an immigrant who had been born female but now lived as a man working in the NHS. Jack wasn’t sure what to make of it but he was sure somewhere in the Daily Mail offices someone was getting sharp pains in their stomach telling them there was a 'sleazy' story here.

For several moments Jack stared at the open pages of his notebook. There was so much he wanted to ask. When had he changed? Why? When had he known? Did he see something in Jack that reminded him of that decision? He glanced down at Isaac’s crotch and wanted to ask what was there. But he didn’t write anything.

Slowly, without really knowing what he was doing, Jack moved closer to Isaac, feeling his breath on his face. Watching his chest rise and fall. Isaac tried to say something but Jack stopped him by planting a kiss on his lips. The first, soft, kiss turned into a stronger, more powerful one. Within moments Isaac was tilting him backwards.

Jack heard a few wolf whistles and jeers coming from the other end of the kitchen. He just extended his middle finger to them. He didn’t know what was happening, or how long it would last but he was now becoming more comfortable as a ‘she’. Maybe she would change back, but for now she was happy.

---

Hours later they spilled out noisily on to the south Manchester streets. It was freezing and all the cars' windows were iced over, the ice creating frozen spider’s webs on the windscreens.

Rach, Esse and Martina were getting a lift back with Danielle, who had amazingly managed to avoid drinking the whole night.

“Oh, I don’t really like alcohol,” she had told them, much to their disbelief.

That left Poppy, Emma, Jack and Isaac, the two ‘couples’ waiting for their taxis to turn up. A white people carrier turned up first. It had been booked by Poppy to help get all of Emma’s guitars and amps in.

“Where are you guys going to?”

Isaac asked as they helped them load up.

“We’ve got a flat in town, come back with us if you fancy sharing a joint?”

Despite Emma's wearing the trousers Jack got the idea that Poppy was the lead in their relationship.

“I think we need to get back. We promised Rach we’d meet them back at theirs.”

“You should keep in contact, maybe go for a drink sometime?” Emma said from behind Poppy.

Jack smiled, she wasn’t used to being the ‘girl’ half of a couple. For that matter she wasn’t used to being half of any couple. She’d only had a few relationships as a boy and most of them only lasted a few months at a time. It felt good to have another ‘couple’ want to recruit them.

The taxi driver tooted his horn, not unreasonably wanting to get off. Poppy thrust a flyer into Isaac’s hand.

“Emma and Esse’s band are playing this LGBTQ gig in the New Year. You should come.”

With that they were gone. Jack held Isaac’s hand as they watched the taxi drive away. For a moment everything was quiet. The cold weather had a magical quality dampening the noise of the city.

Jack looked up, she could see far more stars in sky than she would have though could be possible. She tried to imagine what it would be like up there. To set foot on Mars or travel even further into space. She had heard they managed to land a space probe on a comet and that there might be microscopic life on Mars. She was a little frustrated there hadn’t been even more advances in space travel while she had slept. The Internet was fine, but it wasn’t exactly Doctor Who or Star Wars.

“Jack,” At first she thought it was Isaac speaking, but the voice was too small and far away. “Jack Sheppard.”

Both Jack and Isaac turned around at the same time. Coming out from underneath the street lamp was a young man or boy. He looked shabby and malnourished as he staggered forward.

“Jack,” his voice was disappearing. He had clearly been sleeping rough for some time. “Jack, I have a message for you…” Jack rushed forward as the boy keeled over. She held him in her arms as he seemed to drift off.

Jack looked up at Isaac and Isaac looked down at her.

“What are we going to do?” Isaac said.