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

Fantasy, horror and humour in Brexit Britain. Oh, and more than a little TG.

Thanks as always to Robyn and Chris for their input and support. Please post comments, they help me continue writing and improve as I do so.

Unseen People

Chapter 1

Ben and Molly both stared at the little screen of light on Molly’s iPhone.

“What’s your top score?” Ben asked his schoolmate. Molly just grunted. Ben looked into the darkness. The brick bus shelter gave some protection, but it did not keep out the night’s chill fully. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. He looked back to see the bright colours of his friend’s iPhone jump about.

“Nothing ever happens in Alfsdale,” he sighed. In front of them, past the road was a steep drop to the lake. Not that they could see it in the dense fog.

“Do you think we’ll ever leave here?” Again he spoke more to himself than her.

“What do you mean?” Molly surprised him; he had not realised she was listening.

“It’s just symbolic isn’t it,” he gestured at nothing in particular. Looking at his friend he realised he needed to elaborate more. “We spend every evening here, in a bus shelter, when there are no buses after seven. It’s like our lives, we’re going nowhere.”

“Kirsty’s right, you are a strange one,” Molly pressed pause. “Where would we go anyhow?” She shook her head. “We’re fourteen.” He sighed, she didn’t understand.

“We could go to New York, or Europe. I heard Iceland was amazing…” his voice trailed off and she looked at him funny.

“Iceland? Look in two years we get to go to college,” she paused, looking for the words, “Maybe even in Manchester?”

He laughed loudly, “Manchester! Do your dreams really start at the end of the tram line?” They both laughed. It all seemed so far off. Two years was like a life sentence when you were fourteen.

“What’s that?” Molly pointed down the road in the opposite direction to town.

“A light of some sort?” Ben was unsure. “Doesn’t look like a car.” They looked down the road. It looked like someone was shining a powerful torch somewhere deep in the fog. The light was being disturbed by something, something that cast shadows. The shadows moved oddly, looking like the legs of a giant spider.

“Hello!”

Ben’s heart stopped, he had not been expecting Molly to call out. There was no answer but the spider legs got closer.

“Hello!” Molly called out again, “Who is it?” She turned to Ben and in a quieter voice said, “It’ll be someone who broke down.” He thought she sounded uncertain.

Peering closer he thought he could see something behind the spider legs. What, he was not sure. A figure emerged. Through the glare they could make out arms and legs. Molly kept calling out ‘hello’ but the figure didn’t respond.

It took only minutes, but it seemed longer. The figure was a woman, a naked woman. Her hair was cut short, not in a fashionable, designed way. It looked like it had been hacked away by someone with scissors and very little time. She reminded Ben of a picture from his history book of a girl who had just been hit by napalm in Vietnam.

Her eyes were wild. Ben had the feeling that she did not quite believe she was there. Her movement was awkward, like she had only just learnt she had limbs. A few feet away from them she collapsed. As soon as her skin struck the rough ground the light behind her went out. Molly called out and ran down the road a little. For a moment he lost her in the fog. All he could see was the glow of the torch app on her phone.

“Hey you!” Her voice rang out; in the fog it echoed strangely. It sounded like it was coming from all around him. Ben looked down at the woman, everyday he dreamed of seeing a woman naked, but now he was faced with one he had no idea what e was supposed to do or say. He was not even sure she was aware of his presence.

“Hey you!” there was a pause, “Hey fuckers!” Molly’s voice rang out. He looked down at the woman, she was breathing like a hunted animal that had just been cornered. It looked to him as if she was angry with the air itself.

“Hey you!” Molly’s voice was fainter now and he could no longer see the glow of her phone torch. He wanted to run after her and bring her back. The night was black and starless. The thin arc of the new moon hidden by cloud and mist.

The woman let out a deep guttural moan. She looked up at him as if it was the first time she had seen him. She did not speak but her eyes pleaded for some sort of help. For a moment he froze, he was not used to someone depending on him.

“Oh shit,” a thought occurred to him. He pulled off his coat and draped it over her. He could feel her muscles heaving with every breath. Something about the gesture calmed her down. Slowly she sat down, her legs crossed underneath her. She pulled the coat around her, looking like a tent with a head popping out the top.

“What’s up, how’s she doing?” Ben was crouched down rubbing the woman’s back when he heard Molly’s voice. It's what he remembered his mother doing for him when he was upset or ill. He did not know why it worked, but it always did for him.

“I have no idea. She won’t speak. Did you find anything?”

“No, nothing. But it's almost impossible to see anything. They could have been standing two metres away from me.”

The woman watched them as they spoke. She looked from face to face like someone watching a very confusing game of tennis.

“Who do we call? Ambulance, police?” He considered it.

“Both.”

“Both? Can you do that?”

“I think you call the one number and then they tell both,” He was thinking of what he had seen on TV. Was that right? They make up a lot on TV.

“I can’t get any bars,” Molly held up her phone. She walked in the direction of town.

“They don’t mean anything,” he shrugged; he heard that on TV as well.

-----

“Inspector, there’s been a call,” Wren looked up from her desk. Mark was a middle-aged man with a neat and tidy beard and an expanding waist line. He once showed her the book he’d written on local folklore and poetry. Apart from that she knew very little about him.

“Who would call this time of night? It’s not teenagers in the high street again?”
Marks face was smiling but his eyes said he was ready for home. She thought of the bottle of wine she bought at lunchtime. It was still sitting in the boot of her car. She wouldn’t be on until late the next day. She was going to down it while watching back to back Harry Potters and eating take-away Chinese. The only takeaway in town that stayed open past ten was shit, and it was quarter past nine now.

“Two kids have found a woman up on the King’s Road. Sounds like she’s been in an accident, or maybe assaulted.”

“She didn’t say which?”

“The kids say she isn’t talking, perhaps it’s shock?” She could see Mark desperately wanted to give her the piece of paper and get back to watching Netflix. The night shift was usually slow, most people used it to read, watch telly or occasionally catch up on their paperwork.

“Okay, give it to me. Are the ambulance boys on their way?”

“They should be there now.” She nodded. Wine, cheese on toast and just one Harry Potter it was.

Her car was a Toyota Corolla. What it lacked in romance it more than made up for in reliability. Despite the frost beginning to form on the window it started first time. Her hands were cold against the steering wheel. It reminded her of when she was little and she used to ride her bike to school in bad weather. It would take ten minutes before her hands warmed up.

The Hob’s Hill road rose out of the little town and then followed the side of the hill towards Rochdale. Behind it was the lake. Alfsmere was not the most impressive lake. It always looked too dark and cold for anything to live in it.

The blue lights of the ambulance loomed out of the fog. The Toyota’s brakes screeched as she brought the car to an abrupt stop. As ever they didn’t let her down.

“What do we have?” she recognised the paramedic but did not remember his name.

“Young female, suffering hypothermia and some sort of shock.” His accent had a trace of Eastern European in it. He looked back towards the ambulance where the woman sat, her shoulders covered by a silver blanket.

“Has she spoken at all?” Wren asked. She could see her face. It looked pale. Her eyes were wild, not quiet focusing on anything in front of her.

“No, not a word. If you asked me to guess I’d say she’s on something.”

“Any guesses as to what?” she asked hopefully. He just shook his head. The flashing blue light intermittently and regularly illuminating his face. He’s good looking she thought; however the light made him look tired.

“And she had no ID?” she sighed, it didn’t look like she would be escaping into that bottle of wine anytime soon.

“She had nothing, not even clothes.”

“Any signs of assault,” she took a deep breath, “anything that would suggest sexual activity?” His eyes were sad, they both know what this looked like.

“Nothing obvious but they’ll be able to do more tests at the hospital.”

“There were witnesses?” The paramedic points to the two teenagers sitting at the bus stop. Wren looked at Ben as she walked over. She had seen him around before.

“You’re Andy Keegan’s son, aren’t you?” she asked him. Andy Keegan was a criminal defence lawyer who sometimes represented suspects she had to question. He was a good lawyer, honest and conscientious. She knew much worse.

“Ben,” he nodded.

“You and your friend found her?” she turned to the girl.

“Molly,” she introduced herself. “She found us really.” The girl pulled her coat tightly around herself. “What do you think happened to her?” They all look over at the woman who was now being given something to drink by the paramedics.

“That’s what I want to find out.” She looked at them both. There was no teenage bravado, they looked spooked.

“I need to take statements from you both but first I’ll call your parents and get them to come and pick you both up.” The two teenagers mumbled their thanks. Wren headed over to the woman.

“Hello Ms,” the woman turned her head towards Wren, there was a faraway look in her eye. At least they were a little calmer now. “Can you understand me?” The woman just continued looking at her. She didn’t move or in anyway indicate she understood what was happening. Wren decided just to keep going, “Do you know where you are?” .The woman moved her head fractionally from side to side. Wren decided to take that as a ‘no’.

She looked over at the paramedic she had spoken to before, wishing she had some support. “Can you tell me your name?”

The woman opened her mouth, but barely a sound came out. Wren knelt down and shuffled closer. She took out her note pad and carefully placed a biro in the girl’s hand

Jack the girl scribbled. It was barely readable; she could not be sure she got it right.

“Does that say ‘Jack’?” Wren looked into the woman’s eyes.

Jack nodded ever so slightly. Her mouth twitched upwards as if she was just learning to smile.

Great, was Jack short for Jacqueline, Jackie or a nickname? Not much to go on.

The paramedic spoke, “We need to get her to the hospital now.” She felt like she should not let Jack go but knew she needed to be looked at.

“That’s okay, but I’ll need your details as well.” She looked at the paramedic feeling awkward. “You know, in case I need to follow anything up,” she clarified. Why did she feel so embarrassed? It was a fair request.

“The name’s Ted,” the paramedic pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled something down. “You can reach me here.”

---

Five am was the only time of the day Andy Keegan got to write. By six Ben would be up and the house overwhelmed by the usual chaos. At first he had tried to write after the boy had gone to sleep, but the pull of wine and TV was usually too powerful, anyway In the evenings his brain was dull and uncooperative.

His usual companion was Jess the cat. Jess would be coming back from her hunting missions just as he was getting down to work. This morning Jess had not yet returned. Never the less, Andy refilled her drinking water and cat biscuits before settling down on the sofa with his laptop.

The short amount of time forced him to write without editing. He poured it down first, then came back. At least, that was the theory. By six forty-five he was wondering where Jess was. He kept writing a sentence and then deleting all or most of it. His mind just would not settle. With five minutes to go he stood up and went to look through the French window. He half expected to see Jess’s sleek form crossing the garden, but there was no movement at all.

Upstairs he heard the muffled electronic melody of an alarm followed by Ben rolling over in bed. He looked at his watch, he would give it another ten minutes before he went and hurried him out of bed. A few minutes later the flushing of a toilet told him he wouldn’t need to bother today.

Last night had been a strange one, his heart had leapt into his mouth when he got the phone call from the police. Thankfully nothing had happened to Ben. He thought of Ann, Ben’s mother and how quickly she had faded. Some wounds you never recovered from.

He slipped on his gardening trainers and pulled open the French windows and stepped out. It was cold and fresh. He could smell snow on the wind. He scanned the sky but could not see the dark clouds yet.

The garden was still and seemed empty. There was still no sign of Jess. Andy lifted his coffee mug up to his mouth and took a sip. Where was that cat?

---

Another alarm went off. Wren reached over to her phone. She groaned when she saw there were three missed calls, all from her boss. Her head was swimming from tiredness and the wine. She should have just left it. She had not got back from work until past one am.

“Something happened at the hospital last night, your Jane Doe tried to run away.” Wren rubbed her temples with her free hand, hoping it would ease her headache. She listened as the Inspector, Jacobs, told her to get down there right away. Then she looked at the clock on her phone. Twelve minutes past nine; so much for her morning off. She texted Jacobs back saying she was on her way, then she dragged herself into the shower.

The hot water and steam helped a little. It took an act of great will power for her to get out of the shower. She cleaned her teeth twice and made a mental note to buy Polos from the corner shop. She spent ten minutes examining her face in the mirror. She hated the bags under her eyes and how limp her hair looked. There was not much she can do about it.

The hospital was the single biggest employer in the town and the largest building. She parked a couple of streets away not wanting to have to pay the car park prices and had to walk against the wind. She could feel snowflakes against her exposed skin.

Inside the hospital was much like any other. The ceilings were strangely low and she wondered for a moment if there was a medical reason for this. At each door she stopped and squirted the antiseptic gel on her hands, massaging it in. Eventually she reached the desk she was looking for.

“I’m here to speak to the Jane Doe we brought in last night,” she flashed her ID Badge to the twenty-something black male nurse. His own badge read ‘Isaac’.

“Sure,” he typed something into his computer, “I’ll take you through.” As they walked she talked to Isaac.

“I hear you had some trouble with her in the night?”

“You could say that,” the man pulled back his sleeves, indicating scratches.

“She did that?” Wren was surprised. She remembered a slight, frightened girl not much older than twenty by her guess.

“It took four of us to subdue her,” the nurse said. “She gave one of the paramedics a nasty bruise.”

As they reach the door of a private room he held out an arm stopping her going any further. Wren was a little taken aback.

“What ever happened to her, it scared her shitless,” the nurse warned Wren. The room had just one bed. It was one of those hospital beds that could be wheeled about and raised into different positions without disturbing the patient. Jack was sitting up in bed staring through the blinds that covered most of the window. Wren followed her line of vision.

“Looks like a storm’s heading our way.” Jack looked at her but remained quiet. She seemed calm but her arms were restrained on either side of the bed.

“Do you remember me from last night?” Wren kept her voice soft, like she was speaking to a child. Now they were not fogged by whatever drug was in her system she could see that Jack’s eyes were bright green. Her skin was soft and very pale; like she had just walked off an advert for skin cream, or lived in a dark hole the last few months.

“She can’t speak,” Isaac told her. “We don’t really know why. Possibly shock. We couldn’t find anything physically wrong with her.”

“Thank you. Would you mind leaving us alone?” He looked relieved and exited quickly.

“Jack, can I ask you a few questions?” Jack nodded very faintly.

“Did someone do something to you?” She watched her very closely. After a moment Jack again gave the faintest of nods.

“Was it someone you know?” There was a faint little shake of the head. Well, that would have been too easy. Wren took a deep breath, she hated the next question.

“Look, there’s no nice way of asking this, did they take advantage of you? Sexually, I mean.”

Tears appeared in the corners of Jack’s eyes, but she shook her head, more clearly this time. Wren tried to get more information about the attack or abduction, but Jack seemed to be drifting off again. Eventually she gave up and asked for a full name and address. Jack looked at her again.

She rummaged around in her purse and pulled out a pen and a notebook. She placed the pen in her hand and the notebook down nearby. It took a while, her hand movements are painfully slow, but Jack eventually wrote something. When she had finished Wren picked it up. The handwriting was poor but the name, Jack Sheppard, and the address, somewhere in Hernsbridge in the west of the town.

“Thank you Jack,” she squeezed the girl’s arm. “Do you have any loved ones you want me to contact?” But Jack had returned to staring out of the window again.

She looked down at the address. Well it would have to be enough for now. Outside the room she spoke to Isaac.

“Will she get to see a specialist?” He looked down at his notes.

“She’s booked to see Dr Devi later today.”

“Can you give the doctor this,” she handed him her card with her number on, “and tell the doctor I’ll be in contact later.” Isaac nodded. “Which paramedic was hurt?”

“Tom Nowak. That’s Nowak with a ‘W’ and a ‘K’,” he watched her writing the name in her book.

---

Jack woke with a start. Snow was falling outside the window. It was hard to tell the time from the light outside. He tried to move but his arms were still restrained. Even without that he doubted he could move by much. Every part of his body hurt.

He looked at how thin his arms were. He had lost weight and a lot of muscle. He shook thinking about what could be wrong with him. He had to slow his breathing to avoid a panic attack.

What happened? He could only remember fragments. Being alone on the road, that kid with the coat. The detective woman asking him questions. From the view out of the window and the accents he heard he could tell he was somewhere in North Manchester. Funny, the last thing he remembered was being in a nightclub in the city.

The nurse came in, the one called Isaac. He smiled at Jake but his eyes looked concerned. Jack tried to speak but wasn’t surprised when only air came out.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Isaac said in his soft Caribbean accent. Jack raised his arms indicating the restraints on his wrists. Isaac smiled, he didn’t seem so bad when he smiled.

“Sure. I’ll just go check with the doctor. I am sure we can do something about them.” He turned and left. Jack went back to looking out the window. The snow was coming down more heavily now.

Isaac left the door open. Beyond it Jack could hear the sounds of the hospital. Two voices, probably nurses, discussed a patient. He could not hear much but just the music of their voices added a pleasing normality. He rested back on the bed trying to make himself comfortable.

“Hello Jack,” Isaac returned with a middle-aged Asian man, “How are you today young lady?” The middle-aged man looked down at his notes. “My name is Doctor Devi.”

“Mmmm,” was the only noise Jack could make. Did he say ‘young lady’? Jack’s head spun, aching like it was filled with flu.

“Do you mind?” The doctor showed him one of those ear thermometers. Jack nodded tensely. The doctor presses it against his ear. “Is that a little cold?”

“Mmm,” he replied, just wanting it over.

“OK, you have a temperature. We are going to need to monitor that.” He made a few marks on his clipboard. “But I think we can dispense with these,” he pointed at the restraints. Isaac came over and began removing them. Jack was struck by how much larger Isaac’s hands were than his own.

“OK Jacquie, do you think you could try standing for me?” The doctor smiled down at him. Again Jack’s head swam. When he regained control he nodded agreement. He wanted to get better soon.

“OK then, Isaac can you fetch another nurse?” Isaac came back with a small black woman somewhere in her mid-thirties. Her badge said ‘Jenny’. Between them they helped Jack off the bed. At first he was unsure and almost toppled backwards. With more help he was able to hobble a few steps away from the bed. For a few moments the two nurses let him go and he was able to stand. Slowly but surely he gained confidence. He was not sure he could walk, and he did not want to try, instead he stood there wobbling slightly. His arms were stretched out, like a tightrope walker resting halfway.

From the corner of his eye he spotted a young woman in a hospital robe similar to his own. She looked painfully thin and gaunt. Her short sandy blond hair was pressed against her skull. Everything about her was pointed, from her sharp cheekbones to her knees and elbows.

He blinked and at the same time the girl blinked her bright green eyes. He felt his face burning bright red and his head spinning. One moment he was standing there, the next he was falling backwards. The urgent cries of the medical staff seemed so far away. Somewhere, even further away, he could hear a strange song playing.

---

The night was sweaty and the air thick. Jack danced energetically surrounded by his mates. His trainers would be ruined in the morning thanks to all the beer being spilt and the general grime on the floor. 42nd Street student nights were amongst the cheapest in the city. They were also the perfect place to cop-off, or so he had been told.

The crowd cheered as the Stone Roses’ ‘I am the Resurrection’ began playing. It was Manchester after all. From the corner of his eye he spotted a girl watching him. She looked unusual, with her hair died green. Her cheekbones look like they could cut glass. As the song reached its climax the woman headed over. She walked like a cat who had spotted a trapped mouse.

“Hey, how are you?” he leaned towards her. It did not really matter what he said, the music was too loud. A large guy in a rugby shirt bumped into his back pushing him close to the green haired woman. He was mortified, but she placed her hands on his hips. She began to move him, making him dance. She crushed her body into his then pulled back.

The music changed, this time ‘Groove is in the Heart’ by Deee-Lite. The lights were flashing and his head was swimming. The girl stood on tiptoes and whispered something in his ear. He couldn’t quite make out what but then the room seemed to disappear. His whole body felt like it was falling backwards...

---

Jack woke up in his hospital bed. The room was dark and silent. Next to the bed was a tray with food on it, nothing touched. Outside the window he can see it had stopped snowing. The lights of the parking lot reflected off a thick covering of snow. It must have fallen for hours. In the distance he could see the flickering lights of town and behind them the dark silhouette of Hob’s Hill.

Slowly, with his eyes closed, be began exploring his body. His face felt smooth, like before he had begun shaving. His shoulders felt slimmer, although he couldn’t be sure. Similarly his arms lacked muscle and definition. All this could be incidental he told himself. He had heard the doctors saying he had been inactive for a long time. Perhaps he had been in a coma or something? That would explain everything right?

The next part was more telling. They were only small, at least in his admittedly restricted experience, but there was no mistaking breasts. They felt soft and pliable. He gave a small, soundless gasp when he tried to squash them. His headspun What had happened? Who had done this?

It took him ten or more minutes to compose himself. He had one last place to check. Again he kept his eyes screwedshut, slipping his hands down underneath the sheets. There it was, or more to the point, there it wasn’t.

He lay there rigid with shock. How had this happened? Was it even possible? Had that green haired girl slipped something into his drink? His mind reeled with the possibilities. Forced surgery perhaps? But why would anyone do that outside of a cheap horror flick?

Eventually it all began to overpower him. His body, whatever shape it was in, had little or no reserve of energy. His head began to swim with tiredness. Maybe he had imagined it all. The weight on his chest said no but his brain refused to accept it.

Yes, that was it. This must be some crazy sort of a dream. He looked out at the black silhouette of the hill above the town. Something about it fascinated him. He didn’t even remember closing his eyes, but in moments sleep came.

---

The pub was loud and noisy, Ash was hanging beside the quiz machine as he watched his friend Mitchell hammer away at buttons.

“What’s the capital of Peru?” Mitchell looked at him expectantly.

“Huh?” Ash had been miles away. He pushed his dark brown fringe out of his eyes.

“Come on you lanky beanpole, help me. The capital of Peru, is it Santiago, Lima or Mexico City?” As he spoke Mitchell’s face was lit up by the light from the machine.

“Well it isn’t Mexico City is it?” He took a gulp of his beer; Mitchell just looked blankly at him. “Because Mexico City is in Mexico.” He cursed silently as he spilled a little beer on his shirt. That was his best shirt.

“Oh,” Mitchell looked a little hurt, “I thought it might be a trick question.”

Ash sighed, “No, it’s not a trick question, the answer is Lima.”

“Really?” Mitchell hits a button, after a pause the machine flashed and made a sound that indicated success. “Good call mate, where do you know this stuff from?”

Ash shrugged, “School I guess.”

“So you were paying attention during geography then? I thought you were too busy with that little Wilson girl.” Mitchell paused a moment to look at the new question in the screen, “The one who wore the short skirts.”

He hadn’t thought of Sally Wilson in what, two, three years? Not since they left high school.

“What happened to the girls?” Ash looked away from Mitchell as if he had spotted something fascinating by the entrance to the poolroom. He played with his bottle of beer, peeling away the label.

“Girls? You mean Sally Wilson? I think she works for Asda over Oldham way.”

“No, not her. You said your sister and her mates would be here,” Ash looked at his friend, an edge of annoyance in his voice.

“Oh yeah, by ‘mates’ do you mean Alana?” The Quiz Machine hid Mitchell’s face, but Ash could tell he was smiling. “They might be along later.”

Later didn’t happen. After half an hour Ash became fed up of watching his friend lose money to the Quiz Machine and went and waited at the bar. He’d first seen Alana in the same pub two months ago. She wasn’t like Mitchell’s sister and the other girls, who were all hair and noise. She was quiet, not in a mousey way; you could tell she was listening. Two weeks ago they had sat next to each other when the football was on. He had meant to ask for her number then but had lost his nerve. There were too many people around that knew him. Since then he hadn’t seen her. As last orders were called he decided to leave, he didn’t fancy walking home with Mitchell and the others. He’d take the towpath and kick a few cans into the water.

The towpath was quiet at that time of the night. Despite the risk of slipping on ice Ash liked walking along this way. The cold air kept his mind clear. Normally when he was in college or working at Alabama Fried Chicken he would feel foggy and slow, like he could physically feel his life ticking away. On a night like this however he felt exhilaration, like anything in life was possible.

Snowflakes fell on his face. One landed on his nose. He used his tongue to lick it off. He pulled his hood up further so he could enjoy the soft and warm feel of the lining. Behind him he could hear the noise of the pub. It disappeared slowly as he got further away and within ten minutes he couldn't hear anything at all, not even the road.

As he came to a little bridge the street lamp above him started to blink on and off. It hummed loudly and Ash wondered what was wrong? As he came to the opening of the bridge it went off altogether.

For two or three minutes he just stood there in the darkness. The only light came from over the bushes where he could see the faint glow of the city beyond it.

As suddenly as it turned off the light came on again, no longer buzzing or flickering. He nearly jumped out of his skin. Standing in the shadows under the bridge was a small figure. From its size and general shape Ash got the impression in was a little girl of maybe six to eight years old.

Ash composed himself, "Are you OK? Did you get lost?"

The figure seemed to shake her head.

"You shouldn't be out this late at night," he stepped closer to her, "Look at you,” he still couldn’t quite make her out, “Do you even have a coat? Does your mummy know you are out like this? Does she live near by?" There were no answers to his questions.

The shadow shook her head. She kept her face pointing to the floor as if incredibly shy. Ash kneeled down to try and see the girl's face better. “Hey, can you understand me?”

"Now!" barked the girl. Her voice frightened Ash, there was something animalistic about it.

He didn't have much time to think as someone came from behind and pulled a thin cloth bag over his head.

Ash screamed, but it was muted by the fabric of the bag. Somehow its thin material seemed to eat sound. Every time he took a breath the fabric was sucked down his throat. Through the bag he could just make out the little figure standing over him. He wanted to leap up and grab her, but from behind two small but powerful hands griped his wrists.

He tried to struggle but it was like he was caught in a vice. He continued to struggle but all it achieved was to hurt his arms and tire him out. He could feel his breathing, deep and shallow. What the fuck was happening? He started to panic again as he felt rope begin to bind his wrists.

“Who are you?” he called out, “Why are you doing this?”

“We are your friends,” The voice was a little girl’s, but behind it he could detect the trace of animal fury he had noticed before, “We want to play.”

As he passed out he thought of Alana and how different things could have been if he’d only asked her out.

---

Wren was in the office early. She was trying to track down the address Jack gave her on her street map but couldn’t find a Churchill Street anywhere in Hernsbridge. Every time she Googled it she got a link to black and white photos of Hernsbridge on local history blogs. She looked at the writing on the note. Jack’s handwriting was erratic to say the least; perhaps she had read it wrongly? She tried to unfocused her eyes, to see what Jack meant. She heard a light cough behind her. Turning she saw Mark waiting patiently.

“Can I help?” She was a little annoyed at the intrusion.

“I’ve found something on the Jane Doe,” he paused, looking unsure, “it’s a little strange though.”

“What is it?” This felt like pulling teeth. He handed her a printout and a photo.

“What am I looking at?”

“Well, you asked me to look into missing person cases that might be our girl. At first I drew a blank so I started looking further and further back. I sort of got carried away, then I found this,” he pointed at the document he gave her, “from 1998.”

She looked at what he had handed to her. Stupid really, the girl she met would have only been, what, three, maybe four at a push in 1998. But her eyes lingered on the photo. It was an old one, and she had long hair, but it was her. Or maybe a sister or a twin? They would have to be near identical.

She read the text; Jacqueline ’Jack' Sheppard, age 21. Went missing climbing on the hills with friends. Her friends lost sight of her when a mist descended suddenly, no body was ever found. Even the address checked out.

“This can’t be her. Not unless she was cryogenically frozen,” She turned the piece of paper over, half expecting to see ‘April Fool’ written there.

“I know,” Mark scratched the back of his head, “But if it isn’t, it is one hell of a coincidence.” They both stood in silence looking at the piece of paper. Mark was the first to break the silence.

“There a relative,” he pointed at a line near the bottom of the paper, “the mother. She’s still with us. I checked”

“What would I say to her?” Wren said, mostly to herself. Mark just shrugged.

“Maybe ask if she had any other relatives who have gone missing.”

It made no sense. There seemed no point in getting some elderly woman’s hopes up over nothing. She looked at the photograph. It was black and white but still the resemblance was uncanny. It could have been taken just a couple of days ago.

After a while Mark disappeared muttering something about telling him what she finds out. She just stared at the photo unable to see any difference between it and the girl in the hospital. Eventually she picked up the phone and dialled the number Mark had given her.

“Hello, am I speaking to Mrs Sheppard?” She waited, hearing cracking on the line.

“Who is this?” the voice was elderly but clear.

“Mrs Sheppard? This is Inspector Donnelly of Alfsdale police. Can you confirm who I am speaking to?”

“It’s Ms Rees now dear, I haven’t gone by Sheppard for years. That was my married name.”

“My apologies Ms Rees. I believe you registered your daughter, Jacqueline as missing in 1998?” There was silence on the phone. When she spoke again Ms Rees’s voice was even quieter. Wren can almost feel the pain.

“Is it the body? Has someone found the body?”

---

Tom grasped the styrofoam cup of coffee close in his hands. He waited as its warmth revived his fingers, protecting him against the night. Tully came over and sat next to him.

“Cold night, huh?” she said sipping her tea. He looked up at the stars in the sky.

“It seems like the snow has stopped, for now at least.” Bad weather always brought more work for the paramedics. Alfsdale’s proximity to the M6 and other motorways made it a centre for trucking companies. Many of their drivers were overworked, on tight schedules and eager to get home to their families.

From the cab of their ambulance they could hear the radio crackling. As yet there were no calls.

“Perhaps everyone decided to stay in,” Tully mused. As if in answer to her the radio crackles into life.

“We have a call from Kingsway. Is there anyone near?”

“That’s us,” Tully sighs. Tom was always impressed with how well the petite South Asian woman handled the large ambulance. She could weave in between the traffic at speeds that turned his knuckles white. The roads were mostly empty but it still impressed him how she took such tight corners without tipping the whole vehicle over.

The house was a small semi-detached on the edge of what used to be a council estate and was now mostly privately owned. Tom knocked on the door while Tully waited a little back from him. He watched as a light turned on inside, and a distorted silhouette getting larger as it came closer.

“We had an emergency call? Mrs Beck?” Tom says. For a moment he was worried this was another crank call.

“You were quick,” the woman composes herself, “Our Bryony was attacked.”

“Can you show us where she is?” Tom had an image of a drunken fight in his head. He prayed glass wasn’t involved.

“She’s in the kitchen drinking hot cocoa.” The woman did not wait for his reply, she turned and walked down the hall.

The kitchen was small and the colour of old tea. On the walls were kids finger paintings. A youngish woman, probably in her late teens sat at the table. Her hair was dyed silver, almost grey. It matched the grey of her jumper-dress. The mug she holds seemed too big for her hands.

“Are you okay?” Tully asked her. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“Some pervert tried to grab me,” Bryony’s words sounded tough but her voice shook.

“Are you hurt?” Tully took a seat next to the girl.

“My ankle,” the girl said simply, “and I got a bump on the head.” As Tully checked Bryony for concussion Mrs Beck busied herself making them all tea.

“Do you think it might have something to do with that business they had over in Hayward?” she whispered to Tom.

He knew she meant the taxi drivers who kidnapped and raped young women. The taxi drivers had mostly been South Asian and the victims mostly white. It had caused a great deal of tension across the borough.

“It doesn’t sound like them. They waited till they got the girls in their taxis. This sounds too random for that.” I hope not, he thought, glancing at Tully. Their ambulance had been bricked several times that year.

“Bryony seems fine, just a little mild concussion,” Tully came over to join them. “You should come in if she gets a headache or if things get worse. Apart from that she just needs rest.”

“Thank you,” Mrs Beck handed her a mug.

“Have you reported this to the police?” Tom asked. She snorted, she didn’t think much of that idea.

“What happened?” Tully turned to Bryony, who took a sip of her cocoa.

“Someone grabbed me from behind.” She shuddered. “He had a powerful grip but I kicked him in the balls.” She said the last bit with some pride.

“Where were you?” Tom asked.

“I was coming back from the King’s Head. I took the lane behind the golf course.” Tom knew it well. He had cycled down the muddy little lane on his mountain bike many times.

“Dark this time of night?” suggested Tully.

“The lights from the golf course are enough.”

“Do you think somebody followed you from the pub?” Tom wondered if he should report this.

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “You get some funny sorts.”

After they had finished their tea they made their way out. As they reached the front door Tom turned to Mrs Beck.

“You should report this. Other young women might not be as lucky.”

“The way I figure it,” she crossed her arms, “after our Bryony finished with him I don’t think he’ll be trying it again soon.”

---

Marge was not a close friend, she was married to a colleague, Jeremy who made up part of her pub quiz team. She did however run the local Hearts for Heroes charity shop on the high street.

“Thanks for letting me in,” Wren spoke through the scarf wrapped around her neck and lower face.

“No worries. Who was this for?” Wren could see that part of the deal was exchanging a favour for gossip.

“A girl, she was found on the Hob’s Hill road last night. She hasn’t been fully identified so we need some clothes for her,” Wren looked through the racks not knowing quite what to buy.

“Not that taxi business again?”

“We don’t think so, not the same MO.” She wanted to keep control of this conversation, there were too many dark places it could go. “We don’t really know what happened yet.”

Maybe it was Jack’s short hair but Wren thought she’d be a tomboy. She picked out a couple of pairs of jeans she thought would fit, two t-shirts, a blouse and a couple of small jumpers. They were easily covered by the petty cash Jacobs had given her.

“Do you need any underwear?” Marge asked her. Wren looked at the grey and fading assortment of bras and pants in a big tub.

“Er, no thanks. I’ll just stop off at C&A.”

---

She was surprised to see Jack sat up when she arrived. The girl was sitting on the edge of the bed playing cards with the nurse from earlier. Isaac was sitting in a plastic chair, his legs spread wide in a relaxed pose. Jack smiled when she saw her. Wren thought how much the smile changed her face. She was quite pretty.

“How did you sleep?” Wren asked. Jack held up a small notebook.

‘Hello,’ read the first page. She flicked through a couple of pages. Wren waited patiently as Jack wrote something. ‘Fine thank you. Isaac found this for me.’ She looked at Isaac who shrugged and smiled.

“Good plan.” Isaac nodded his thanks and Wren turned back to the girl, “I brought some clothes for you.” She held up a plastic bag. She had disposed of the charity bag and put everything in the C&A one. Jack showed her a page with ‘Thanks’ written on it, but her expression was wary.

“I thought you might be up to walk to the canteen?”

“Sounds like a good idea,” the young man said. He moved slowly but purposefully up from the seat. Turning to Jack he spoke.

“My shift finished an hour ago.” He stretched and turned to leave. Wren noted the disappointed look on the girl’s face. Recovering well?

“I’ll be back to check on you at the start of my next shift, if that’s okay,” Isaac’s smile was bright and wide. Jack nodded. She turned and looked at Wren with suspicion.

Wren put the bag on the bed; Jack cautiously peered in.

“Come on,” Wren said with forced cheerfulness. Jack sat on the bed looking up at her. Her expression reminded Wren of a kid on her first day of school. “Look, do you want to stay in that,” she indicated what Jack was wearing, “with your arse sticking out all day?” Jack blushed red and then slowly nodded agreement.

Her movements were slow and painful, more like those of the old and infirm than a twenty something woman. Wren watched as she ran a hand slowly through her hair.

“I could get a hairdresser to come in if you like?” Wren asked, the girl just nodded and smiled weakly.

“You seem close to Isaac,” Wren played a hunch. The girl shrugged her bony shoulders but couldn’t look her in the eye.

It felt to Wren like she was dressing an oversized toddler but she was pleased with the purchases. The jeans legs were a little too long, pooling around Jack’s feet, and the jumper sleeves covered her hands so they both need a little turning up, but she had seen worse.

Wren was a little jealous of how good Jack looked, even in cheap clothes. Jack walked tentatively leaning on Wren. She weighs nothing, Wren thought. What happened to her?

---

Jack knew something was wrong. On route to the canteen he kept trying to form the words to tell Wren that he had some how ended up in the wrong body. That he wasn’t supposed to be female, however, every time he tried to formulate the words they slipped through his fingers. It was like he was trying to construct his sentences out of alpha-spaghetti.

After getting out of the elevator Jack saw something he thought would explain it all. A maintenance man was changing the sign on the men’s toilet. Jack grabbed Wren’s arm as tightly as he could, pointing forward.

“What is it?” The detective asked.

Jack pointed again, this time with more force.

“Do you know this man?” Wren looked at the maintenance man, who for his part looked confused.

Jack shook his head. It made him slightly dizzy to do so. He could feel the fog descending it felt a little like being drunk.

“Do you want your notebook?” Jack nodded. Wren passed her the notebook.

Jack tried to compose the words he needed on the paper. He forced himself to focus, like a drunk trying to get his key in the door.

He wrote slowly and with great effort. At times he needed to think just to remember the shape of letters and words. Eventually he finished and looked down at what he had written:

‘I need the toilet.’

As Wren read it Jack let out a silent scream.

Unseen People

Thanks as always to Robyn and Chris for their input and support and a special thank you to all of you for your kind comments and messages for Chapter 1. Please continue to post your comments, they help me keep writing and improve as I do so.

Chapter 2

Freddy Malins had been a regular at the King’s Head for nearly thirty years now. There was a stool at the place where the bar bent around the corner; the worn red leather of the stool had an imprint that matched Freddy’s bum exactly. If you were to look closely you’d see the faint lines, like the rings in a tree, where his buttocks had grown, inch by inch over the long years.

Freddy prided himself on knowing all the customers of the little pub. He knew the other regulars like family, and the casual drinkers better than any work colleague. The man he was looking at was neither. He couldn’t quite put his finger on this one. The stranger’s face was smooth and boyish. He looked young, apart from the fatty jowls and slightly receding hairline. The suit he wore was new, but also baggy and ill shaped and ill fitting.

“You new to the area?” Freddy asked, taking a sip of what was left of his pint.

“Just passing through,” Freddy guessed from the stranger’s accent that he was from London.

The stranger stopped and turned to look at Freddy, “I’m doing some research into this girl who reappeared a couple of nights ago.”

“A journalist?”

The stranger nodded slowly, “You could say that I dabble.”

“Who do you write for?” Freddy looked longingly at the nearly full, cold pint in front of the stranger. Lager wasn’t usually his drink, but right now he’d be glad of anything.

“I’m freelance. You wouldn’t know anything about this girl would you? The barman said you work in maintenance at the hospital.”

Freddy watched the stranger's face. It was soft and smooth. He could be forty something and lived an easy life, he could be in his twenties and over indulged.

“What’s your name, stranger?” Freddy felt uneasy, he knew he wasn’t supposed to talk about patients.

“Peter,” Peter held out a hand, “Nice to meet you Freddy. Let me buy you a pint.”

Freddy didn’t remember introducing himself, must be all the booze he thought. It’s time to cut down on the daytime drinking. Well, nearly time.

Peter gestured for the barman to come over. The barman didn’t look too happy about it.

“Get my friend a pint. Whatever is his pleasure,” The barman shot Freddy a glance. Freddy didn’t think he wished him any pleasure.

“Anything else?” The barman turned back to Peter.

“I am going to guess my new friend here has an unpaid tab?” Peter said cheerfully pulling several crisp twenty pound notes out of his wallet.

“You could say that,” The barman replied not looking at Freddy. Freddy knew it was past the £200 mark. How much higher he didn’t want to know.

“Well my friend Freddy and I,” Peter slapped Freddy on the back, “We are going to the snug. If he tells me something I want to hear then I’ll be paying off that tab.”

The barman looked back at Freddy. From his expression he didn’t think Freddy had anything to say that anyone wouldn’t be interested in.

Peter led Freddy away, “What’s your full name?” Freddy asked.

“Peter Pan,” Peter smiled a mirthless smile.

Freddy tried unsuccessfully to suppress a laugh, “Your parents had a funny sense of humour?”

“No parents, I was raised by fairies.”

---

A couple of flakes of snow hit the glass of the canteen window. Jack watched them melting as they slowly slipped down the window.

A girl sat with her father at a table across from them. Both her arms were in bandages and her father had to carefully feed her soup. Jack’s eyes followed the spoon up and down, as they did so her scratched his arms. Nerves sent signals to his brain telling him this soft skin was now his.

“Jack, can you tell me any more details about yourself?” Wren’s voice cut through his thoughts. Jack turned back to the detective and shook his head. Jack picked up her pen and wrote something on her note pad.

‘Parents are dead. I go to Salford Uni. I could give you a list of my friends but I can’t remember their names off the top of my head.’

He wanted to ask how his body had changed, why he now appeared to be female, but when he tried to form the questions in his head he found himself becoming distracted. He looked up seeing the father wipe his daughters mouth with a napkin before he started writing again.

‘There’s an address book at my home, I keep it next to the phone.’

Wren took the notebook, turned it around to face her and then read it twice, “I am sorry Jack but we haven’t been able to find the address you gave us.”

Jack wrinkled his forehead and twirled the pen in his hand. He could feel the extra weight on his chest rise and fall with every breath. It was disturbing, none of this made any sense. It was like someone had sneaked in and moved everything in his life two feet to the left.

Wren must have seen the look of distress on his feminine face, “Dr Devi thinks you maybe suffering from some form of amnesia.” She took Jack’s hand in hers, stroking its smooth, soft skin. Jack could feel how much greater the strength in Wren’s hand was than his. He felt like he was made of rice paper. “The doctor thinks it could be your mind’s way of dealing with the trauma.”

Jack shuddered. It made sense, but he didn’t want to confront what could have been so terrible that it had fried his brain.

“Do you remember anywhere, anything that could help us?” Wren squeezed tightly. For a moment Jack worried that she would crush the bones in his fingers they felt so fragile.

He concentrated, trying to put back together the pieces of his memory, like a jigsaw puzzle. Blurred images, sounds and smells. He pulled the notepad back to him and wrote something down, passing it back to Wren.

‘Castle Irwell Student Halls.’

Wren nodded but didn’t say anything. Castle Irwell had closed down the year before and the building itself had been destroyed this year by fire.

---

Ben woke with a start; he had heard the rattling in his dream. At first he lay there listening for any sound. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the hum of traffic where the A road met the motorway. It was only very faint, during the day it would be completely covered by the everyday noises of the house.

He lay in bed for a full fifteen minutes wondering if he had only dreamed it. Then he heard it again. He looked outside and saw the trees swaying in the wind. Maybe a window had been left partially open? The rattling came again, this time he could tell it was coming from beneath him. Underneath his bedroom was the kitchen. Perhaps the cat flap was letting a breeze in?

When he heard it a third time he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he had investigated. He crept down the stairs careful not to wake his dad.

When he reached the kitchen his first instinct was to flip the light switch, but something stopped him. He knew once a light came on the half of his brain that was still in sleep mode would be awake. Then it would take him hours to find sleep again.

He crept through the dark kitchen trying to identify the source of the noise. The room had been transformed by moonlight from the normal and everyday to the transient and dream-like. He looked out through the window; the moon looked much larger then normal.

At the end of the kitchen there were the large French window doors. Through them he could see a fresh layer of snow had fallen. It must have been some time before as the sky above was clear and full of stars.

Reaching the French window he looked up, he had never seen so many stars in his life. Was it his imagination or did he see a shooting star? He could almost see the colours of the giant gas clouds from which solar systems were formed.

Suddenly, he heard it again. Only this time the rattle was right next to him. He looked down to see a face staring back at him, the face of young girl. He jumped back startled, nearly tripping himself over. He ran to the back of the kitchen running his hand along the smooth surface of the wall until he found the switch. His heart beat against his ribcage.

The instant he flicked the switch his eyes were dazzled. He stood there, facing away from the French windows. He knew he had to turn around but couldn’t bring himself to do so. He told himself that there would be nothing there, that it had all been in his imagination, but then the rattling started again.

One… Two… Three, he turned slowly and had to force himself to keep his eyes open. When finally he faced the door he sagged in relief. There was no one there. He moved towards the door, comforted by the normality of his surroundings. There was the cornflakes packet, left out next to an empty bowl, crumbs and discarded flakes all over the counter. It told him his dad had been down for a snack earlier.

As he reached the French doors he noticed the frost patterns covering the outside glasspane. Intricate lines meeting together creating what looked like the map of a frozen city. He looked out onto the back garden. The snow lay crisp and untouched save the tiny footprints of a robin. OK, he thought to himself, he had let his imagination run wild. That moment he heard the glass in the windows rattle with the wind. That must have been it, he told himself. Deeper in his mind he though, that is a different rattle, but he rationalised it as his mind playing tricks on him.

He decided he needed to do something, to keep his mind from inventing things. He brushed up the crumbs from his dad’s midnight feast and put them in the compost bin. Then he returned the cereal packet to its cupboard and put the bowl and spoon into the dishwasher. As he left, turning off the light switch he couldn’t help but feel like someone, or thing, was watching him. He turned quickly, but saw nobody.

Suddenly there was a tapping at the window, making Ben nearly jump out of his skin. He flicked the lights back on expecting to see the girls face again, but there was nothing.

Tap, tap, tap. Ben couldn’t see where it was coming from. Then he saw it, a tiny little bird sitting on the windowsill. Tap, tap, tap, it banged its beak against the glass. It probably had no idea what the window was thought Ben. It’d be like one of us finding an invisible force field in the middle of the shopping arcade.

Not really knowing why, he went over to the window. He places his finger on the spot where the birds was tapping. He could see that the bird was a robin, its red breast showed up starkly against the white backdrop. Tap, tap, tap the bird rapped on the glass. It turned its head so it was looking directly at Ben. He thought its eyes looked sad. Tap, tap, tap the bird went one last time, then it flew away.

Ben was left looking at the garden. It was empty all the way to the line of trees that separated it from the gully and Hob’s Hill behind it. He thought of Jess, the cat, and wondered how long it had been since they had seen her. Maybe twenty-four hours now. He decided he’d help dad look for her before school and headed up the stairs. The clock in the hall said 4:20. Probably too late to sleep now. He’d put his headphones on and listen to podcasts until it was time to get up.

---

Jack lay listlessly back on top of the bed. He still had on the clothes Wren had given him earlier, although they now looked wrinkled from lying there for hours. They were mostly fairly boyish, although tailored to fit a young woman. What he had the most trouble with was the bra. He couldn't get used to how it pulled on his shoulders and back. He didn’t even want to think about the extra weight he felt there when he moved his body.

Even sitting felt strange with the extra padding on his bum. Most of the time he chose to lie, but he could only lie for so long before he noticed something like the extra weight on his chest, or the absence between his legs, and he had to move.

On the bedside table was a pile of magazines, mostly fashion ones and celebrity gossip. Jack hadn’t touched any of them; all he wanted to do was stare out of the window. He wished they could give him something more asexual. Perhaps something on music or film. The problem was when one of the nurses came in he found himself becoming listless, unable to form the words on his notepad.

He had watched the young female nurse called Jill as she changed his bedding. He stood there wobbling slightly as she bent over tucking sheets in. She was pretty, tall, long legs and red hair. Normally he’d have felt something, even when sick, but this time there was nothing. Well, not quite nothing, he did feel something. It had hit him about half an hour after she left. He had been feeling jealousy. The elegant way she moved, and the fact that it all seemed so effortless for her.

He knew he should be more agitated. He hated it when Wren and the others referred to him as a girl. Worse still he kept thinking of himself as a ‘she’. It all seemed odd to him, like he was driving someone else’s car. He knew how everything worked but the windscreen wipers and the indicator switches were on the wrong sides and clutch was over sensitive.

Worse of all was Isaac. He was smart enough to recognise how he was feeling around him. That slight lightness in his head, and the butterflies in the stomach. The way everything he did seemed clumsy and ill thought through when Isaac was near. Sometimes he was glad he couldn’t speak. Even the thought of some of the foolish things he would have said in his presence made him blush. Jack had never fancied another male before, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about this boy.

---

Wren waited on the platform of the Rochdale Town Centre tram stop. The strong wind was blowing the smell of samosas from the little van on the edge of the market space. Wren heard her stomach rumble, damn the diet.

As the tram rolled in her phone buzzed. Wren called the number back.

“Hi, I’m on the platform!” She surveyed the crowd disembarking the tram. “I’m the one wearing the blue coat.”

A woman’s voice replied, “I can see you,” it didn’t seem as old and tired as Wren remembered. She tried to hide her surprise when the woman stepped out in front of her. She didn’t look much over fifty, Wren had been expecting older.

“You were expecting someone older weren’t you?” Ms Rees, the mother of the girl who went missing in the 90s smiled knowingly.

“No, not at all,” Wren lied. “I didn't really know whatto expect,” she pulled it back a little.

“Well I am here now, what do you want from me?” The woman said smiling a little.

As they drove to Alfdale hospital Wren explained as best she could.

“I don’t know how but there seems to be a link between this girl, Jack and your missing daughter Jacqueline. It maybe that she knows something.”

“You think she’s trying to impersonate my little Jackie?” The woman looked out of the window, not at Wren.

“I don’t think so,” Wren had been going over this in her head, “She seems genuine. And if it is a lie it’s a transparent one,” She looked over at her passenger, “We could easily disprove it. But the doctor thinks she’s suffering from some form of amnesia.”

“She doesn’t know who she is?” the mother interjected.

“Not quite. According to Doctor Devi amnesia doesn’t make you forget your name, that’s only in bad science fiction novels. He thinks something traumatic happened to her and she has constructed a false identity to protect herself. But that leaves open the question of where she heard about your daughter.”

Wren looked over at Ms Rees. She was clutching her handbag close to her. Wren could see the whites of her knuckles.

“Can I ask you a question?” Wren had decided to risk it.

“Sure, I can’t promise I’ll be able to give you an answer.”

“What happened to Jacqueline’s father?”

Ms Rees gave a mirthless laugh, “Oh he’s in Australia somewhere. He works for one of the oil companies out there.”

“He left you?” A car pulled out in front of Wren forcing her to come to a sudden halt. She had to restrain herself from swearing in front of her passenger.

“Oh, I don’t really blame him. Those years after…” her voice trailed off for a moment, “Well, after Jackie went missing. They were hard on us.” As Wren started the car again she noticed Ms Rees looking at her intently, “The hardest thing was the hope. It was very hard to let go.” Her voice was so quiet Wren almost didn’t hear what she said.

They met Doctor Devi outside the ward. Wren watched as he introduced himself to Ms Rees. She watched as Ms Rees’ head bobbed along to every word he said. She had no idea what was going on in there? Doctor Devi explained that the young woman had been through a traumatic experience and that if he felt this was too much for her he would pull them out.

“Inspector, can I have a quick word with you before we go in?” He took Wren by the arm and directed her into a corner of the room.

“Sure, what’s up?” She resisted the urge to end the sentence with ‘doc’.

“As I mentioned we’ve been running some tests on Jack’s vocal cords to see what the problem is.”

Wren nodded, “You said you thought it was psychosomatic?” she noticed the worried look on his face, “Have you found something?”

“That’s just it,” he looked sheepish, “we’ve found nothing.”

“Well, isn’t that a good thing?” she replied uncertain where he was going with this.

“You misunderstand me. We found nothing, as in there are no vocal cords.” He held up an x-ray for her, she had no idea what she was looking at.

“Is that rare?”

“Very. Unless it was a birth defect, which is very rare indeed, then it would had to have been done by surgery.” He looked her in the eye, she could see fear, “That’s some pretty tricky and extensive surgery.”

Wren pondered this. So she was looking for someone with a professional background, probably a surgeon. She thought of all those books she had read on Jack the Ripper back when she was doing her training. She looked over at Jack’s mother; she seemed so small on her own. Who would go to all the trouble of removing a young woman’s vocal cords and why? That thought alone made her shudder.

“Are there any uses for vocal cords. Rare medicines, something like that?” She watched as the doctor shook his head.

“None that I know of. Possibly organ transplant for someone without vocal cords,” Wren looked at him in disbelief, “I’d have to do some research, see if it has ever been done successfully. It isn’t really my area of expertise.” He trailed off at the end.

“Well thank you doctor, let me know what you find.” She looked over at Ms Rees who sat nervously on a plastic chair watching them. This was indeed perplexing but it would have to wait.

“OK, I think we can go through now,” she took Ms Rees by the arm. She looked up at her as if she was about to say something, but nothing came out.

Jack was sitting up on the bed, wearing the same clothes she had brought her that morning. Isaac the nurse stood beside the bed. She noticed he was holding the girl’s hand.

“Ms Rees, this is the woman we…” Wren had only started speaking when she felt the woman beside her go. Wren had to strain to hold her up as she let out a guttural wail. She sounded more like a wounded animal than anything human.
Wren felt like she was going to be pulled over before Doctor Devi rushed to her side and helped her carry the woman to a chair in the corner. Wren tried to reassure her but she wept openly and uncontrollably. After a few minutes the woman calmed down enough for Wren to understand her.

“Jacqueline, it’s my little Jackie,” she said through huge sobs. Sobs so big they seemed to shake her whole body.

“Inspector, Doctor, I think we need some help here,” Wren turned. She had been so fixed on the woman she had momentarily forgotten about Jack. The girl was sitting on the edge of her bed shaking visibly, silent tears rolling down her cheek. Reassured Devi had the mother she rushed over to Jack putting her arms around her.

“Are you OK sweetie?” She tried to hold her but the shaking was violent and almost totally out of control.

Jack reached out for something. It took Wren a few moments to realise she wanted her notebook and pen. Wren passed them to her.

My mother, wrote Jack pointing across the room at the woman in the chair. Wren nodded, she didn’t know how it could be true but she believed her. How was she going to convince Chief Inspector Jacobs?

Jack was trying to write something else, but her hand was shaking too much. Isaac reached out gently steadying the girl’s hand. After a few minutes Jack was able to write again.

She died three years ago

Wren looked into the girl’s terrified green eyes. They seemed to be begging her for help. Something struck Wren; she put her hand on Jacks arm trying to steady her.

“Jack love, this might seem like an odd question,” she took a deep breath, “but what year do you think it is?”

The question seemed to jolt Jack. So much so that she stopped shaking. She looked from Isaac face to Wren and then wrote something down. Wren took the notepad from her and looked at what she had written:

1998

---

The ambulance arrived just after the police. There was a crowd of people standing around. Tom and Tully were used to this. They often had to fight their way through onlookers to get at a casualty. From inside the group Tom could hear screaming. He pushed past as quickly as he could.

A young looking policewoman stood there trying to keep the crowd back. Next to her, her male partner was trying to restrain a man who was screaming blue murder.

“What’s happening?” He said to the policewoman who looked happy to see him, “Who is the casualty?”

“That’s what we want to know,” The policewoman sounded like she was having a bit of a day.

“They took her, the bastards took her!” screamed the restrained man. Tom noticed a small man in a postman’s uniform kneeling on the pavement, blood pouring from his head. Tom indicated to Tully and she went to help him.

The first man flailed out an arm that caught the policeman on the side of his chin, knocking him backwards. Tom was aware that some of the teenagers in the crowd had taken out phones and were snapping pictures. In a second both police officers were on the man. He was knocked to the ground, the policeman held him while the policewoman struggled to handcuff him.

The man seemed to realise he had made a mistake and stopped thrashing about. Tom turned to the policewoman and said, “You get rid of the crowd, we’ll look after him.”

The policewoman looked uncertain so Tom continued, “You aren’t going to get anything out of him until he has calmed down.”

The two police officers nodded and started to push the crowd back. With Tully’s help Tom took him to the back of their ambulance. As he looked at the cut on the man’s forehead he spoke to him.

“What happened?”

The man didn’t look at him, “Jenny was calling me from the front garden,” Tom looked over at the muddy patch of grass in front of the house. There were still patches of snow covering most of it. In the next garden was a small snowman with no eyes and a tatty little scarf. “She shouted something about the Brownies selling biscuits.” His big chest heaved, “By the time I was half way around the house I could hear her screaming,” he bowed his head and looked into his large open hands, “She was gone before I got there.”

“And what about this guy?” Tom gestured over at the dazed postman Tully had helped up. She was walking him around holding his arm around her shoulder.

The man’s voice became small, “I think he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

They waited with the police and the two men. Tully sat in the ambulance with the postman, whose name was Alan, while Tom sat on the curb with the man whose wife had gone missing, Keith. While the police left the cuffs on Keith, Tom at least had put a silver blanket over his shoulders. The sky was turning grey. It wouldn’t be long before the snow started again.

Tom was sitting in the staff canteen when he saw her enter the room. He watched Wren as she walked over. Without her big coat on he noticed she had long, slim, legs. She was probably in her early thirties, Tom guessed. Her auburn hair was tied back into a high ponytail. It looked like it had been a long time since she had been to the hairdressers. Not that Tom was much of a judge.

“You again,” Wren said to Tom. “Always causing trouble.”

“That’s me,” he smiled at her, indicating for her to take a seat at his table. His shoulders and back ached, it was only when he sat down that he noticed.

“I’m going to need to take your statements,”

“Tully will be back soon, she has just taken Alan to the hospital for a check over,” he took a big sip of his coffee.

“Alan being the postman?” Wren took her notebook out and wrote something.

“You’re an inspector aren’t you?” Tom looked at the ID badge Wren had just put down on the table.

“Yup,” Wren kept her head down flipping through her notes.

“Does your Chief Inspector ever come down for things like this?” Tom watched her as she lifted her head.

“Jacobs? No not often. Not unless there’s some bigwig involved. Why do you ask?” She looks at him in the eyes. Hers were brown and searching.

“I just wondered how seriously the police are taking this. There seems to be a lot going on.”

“How do you mean?” She kept her eyes on him. Her gaze wasn’t unfriendly, but it was intense. It made him want to twitch.

He shrugged, “There just seems to be a lot happening at the moment. Strange things.”

He watched her as she put her note pad away. She licked her lips before speaking again. “When do you finish your shift?”

“In about an hour,” he glanced up at the clock, it was just a little under.

Wren kept her eyes down, “Do you want to talk more? Over a drink I mean.”

At first Tom didn’t realise what had happened. He thought she wanted to question him some more. “You want to go for a drink?”

“Yeh. it‘s been a mad day.” She looked up at him again with those same searching brown eyes. Only this time they seemed to contain a flicker of vulnerability.

Why not? His love life was pretty none existent. The only women he met were work colleagues or the injured and sick.

“OK,” he said, smiling at her, “Do you know the King’s Head?”

---

Jack slept uneasily. The day had been filled with more emotion than he could cope with. Through wriggling around he had wound the sheets around him with only his bare feet poking out at the bottom.

Something woke him, a sense that he wasn’t the only one in the room. He could see little through his sleep filled eyes. He noticed that the room temperature was low. Outside the window the moon looked huge in the empty sky. Its light was all he had to see by.

As he became accustomed to the light, or lack of it, he saw something that made him nearly jumped out of his skin. There were two figures standing at the bottom of his bed. Not able to call out all he could do was reach for the light switch.

It took a moment for his eyes to get used to the artificial brightness. Standing there were two girls, probably not much older than twelve. The tallest cocked her head to one side, looking at Jack. Her long blond hair reached down past her shoulders. Her shorter friend had brown hair cut into a short bob. Both wore Brownie uniforms with little black hats and yellow sashes.

Jack reached for her note pad and showed them the first page, I can’t speak, I am mute.

“Yes,” said the taller girl, “We know.” It was a firm statement.

Jack waited a moment to see if they would say anything more.

The smaller girl raised up a box to show Jack, “Will you buy our biscuits?”

I am sorry, I don’t have any money on me. Jack leaned forward to show the girls what he had written. How had they got in here? Surely it was too late for kids their age.

The girls divided and walked to either side of bed. Jack looked from one to the other, not knowing what was happening.

“We don’t want money silly,” This time the tall girl spoke. Jack watched as she undid her yellow necktie and wrapped it around her hand.

“We want you,” said a quiet little voice. Jack whipped around to see the other girl also had her yellow necktie in her hands. Up this close she thought they no longer looked like little girls, but more like miniature adults. Before Jack knew what was happening the two girls had pounced and grabbed her arms. Jack tried to struggle but the girls were surprisingly strong. Within moments they had tied her wrists to the rails either side of the bed.

Jack struggled to break free. He couldn’t speak of course, all he could do was thrash his legs about. A cold shiver ran down his spine when he saw the tall girl jump on the bed. Jack began thrashing about even harder when he saw the smaller girl pass her friend a pillow.

“You had to run away didn’t you,” The tall girl’s face was contorted into a mocking sneer. “But if we can’t have you, no one can,” she leaned forward pressing the pillow against Jack’s face.

Jack tried to fight back but again he was overwhelmed by the girl’s inhuman strength. He could feel strong little hands holding his legs still. The pillow seemed to be pressed against him for hours. His lungs burned and his chest felt like it would explode. Eventually he could feel the strength leaving his arms. What a way to die! Then everything turned black.

Jack woke with a start, his body desperately trying to suck air into his lungs. After a few moments of animal panic he calmed down. He realised his arms were free, they must have untied them. Had they thought him dead? The light was off again so he grabbed around for the switch. In his panic he hit something with his hand; he heard the sound of a plastic cup bouncing off the floor.

Light came back into the room. Jack looked around and was comforted to see the girls were gone. He must have passed out and the girls had left thinking they had succeeded.

---

It was Friday and the King’s Head was packed. Wren craned her neck to try and spot Tom in the crowed. She looked down at her phone; his text said he’d found a quiet spot. Looking around she couldn’t see anywhere that fitted that description. She took another look around the bar to see if she could see him.

She spotted old Freddy in the corner, it looked like he’d been drinking all day. There had been a number of times when Wren had let the old soak sleep it off in the cells. He was harmless enough, although that didn’t mean he couldn’t cause trouble. Only that he did it more by accident than design.

“Hey Wren,” she turned around to see Tom sitting at a little table near a window. He gestured down to show he had bought two pints. His was already half empty.

“Hey,” she said sheepishly, not sure what the proper etiquette was. They both leaned forward to kiss a cheek, only they went for different cheeks and ended up brushing each other’s lips. Wren felt a little tingle.

“Halloween this weekend,” Tom nodded towards the different costumes in the room. At the table next to them a vampire had left half his make-up on his pint glass.

“You not dressing up?” Wren said, glad of the subject as her mind had gone blank.

“Halloween isn’t my thing really,” Tom shrugged, “I guess in my line of work you see too few people rise from the dead.” Tom looked embarrassed, “Sorry, that’s a bit dark to start with.”

“No,” she instinctively reached out and touched his hand, “You don’t have to worry. It is the same in the police. If you didn’t laugh you’d have to cry and all that.”

Tom took a big gulp of his beer and then smiled at her. She could feel a werewolf’s tail brushing against the back of her head, she leaned closer to Tom. “So, what is the maddest thing you’ve seen on duty?”

As time went on the crowd in the pub began to thin out. Some headed into Manchester for the clubs and bars. Couples headed to restaurants or takeaway in front of the TV. Tired singles slunk off for quiet nights or to meet friends.

All along Wren and Tom kept talking. She found him easy company, like they had been friends for years. Wren told him about the man she found not wearing trousers in the middle of the shopping mall. Tom told her about the different things people had got stuck up their bums. With each reel of laughter they each felt their burdens lighten slightly.

Eventually Wren had to get up to go the toilet. She had been dreading it for a while. There was a long line outside the Ladies. Wren was stuck between a sexy nurse and a sexy zombie. She was surprised they had managed to make a zombie sexy.

After finally getting a stall and relieving herself she elbowed her way to the mirror. She really wished she’d found time to get to the hairdresser. It was unfair. Men could pop in for half an hour and be done. For her it was a daylong event. Seeing as she only got two days off a week, she resented wasting half that time on something which should surely count as work.

She spent ten or so minute trying to tease her fringe into something that might look asymmetrical and cool. In the end she was happy to settle for just covering the lines on her forehead.

Walking back to the table she saw a sexy chainsaw victim chatting to Tom. She didn’t like the way the fake blood covered her exposed cleavage.

“Bugger off girly,” she flashed the sexy-chainsaw-victim her ID badge, “or I search that bag of yours.”

“I was just chatting,” the bloody boob owner protested.

“I know what you were just doing,” she nodded at Tom, “he’s with me.”

The chainsaw victim staggered back to her friends. Wren was sure she heard her saying something about being ‘frigid’.

“I think that might be an abuse of power Ms Inspector,” Tom smiled wryly at her. “Does that come with handcuffs?”

Wren sat down and tried to change the subject, “Do you want another pint?” This would be their fourth.

“How about a curry? I know a good place not far from here.” Tom reached for her hand, touching it gently.

“How about we go to my place and order takeaway?” Wren tried her best pout, a look that had served her well in her younger dating days.

---

It was early morning before Jack decided to make his move. His mum, or whoever she was, had left some clothes for her in an old duffel bag. Jack rummaged through them looking for something suitable. He found a pair of dungarees and a long-sleeved T-shirt. They would have to do.

He had spent much of the night planning his move. He knew he couldn’t stay in the hospital, it wasn’t safe, but he needed help. He couldn’t trust the police, they had been supposed to be keeping a guard. The hospital was similarly worrying. Had someone on the staff led the girls here? Then there was his mum. He was the first person he had thought of running to, but how could he trust the fact she had been dead and was now alive? Where had he been for the last three years? Or, if he was to believe the inspector, the last twenty or so years.

There was one person he thought he could trust, but how to get to him and get out of here? After getting dressed, no easy feat with his whole body aching, he tiptoed to the door. Looking out, the corridor seemed empty. The policewoman who was supposed to be on guard had wandered off for a moment. Picking up the duffel bag and the black coat Wren had bought he opened the door as silently as possible.

A toilet door had been left open. The door had a mirror. For several minutes Jack was caught by his reflection. He stared at the girl looking back at him. Her chest moved up and down in time with his own. Short blond hair, pale white skin and a small pouting mouth. She could easily be one of the girls he used to see in the clubs in town. Eventually he pulled away, there was too much to process.

The corridors were silent, this was good. He wanted a head start before anyone knew he had left. The plastic soles of his Adidas trainers squeaked on the floor as he walked. He wished he had some way of silencing them. There was a front desk to the ward, but it was only staffed by one woman. Jack stood out of sight, watching her for ages. He was beginning to panic he’d be caught when the phone rang. As the woman answered it Jack slipped away around the corner.

It took Jack a while to find all the things he needed. First he had to find a hiding place for later, then some supplies. He stole some fruit off a food cart that had been left outside a private room and found an old newspaper and magazine he didn’t recognise. He placed them in the duffel bag, squashed in with the clothes. When he was finally ready he made his way to the staff changing rooms.

He felt strange breaking into the male changing rooms. Like he was breaking into his old bedroom after someone new had moved in. Jack moved as silently as he could, thankful there was nobody about. The smell of a male locker room should have been normal to him, but it smelt strange slightly fogging his mind. Had it always smelt like this, had he just not noticed?

Finally he found Isaac’s locker. It was near the back. He took his notepad out of the pouch in the front of his dungarees and scribbled something down.

‘Please help me! It said. I’ll be hiding in the store cupboard on the top floor, next to room 508, J xx’

He hadn’t planned on putting the kiss at the end, but there it was. He was considering chucking the note and starting again when he heard the door opening and two men talking. Quickly he folded the note up and slipped it through the crack at the bottom of the door into Isaac’s locker. He then hid behind another bank of lockers and waited till the men had passed where he was. Slowly he slipped out of the door and back into the corridor.

Jack hoped his hiding place was a good one. There was no light in the room so he had to keep himself as still as possible. It reminded him of playing hide and seek as a young boy. He used to hide for ages in places like airing cupboards and elsewhere. He had hidden himself behind several boxes of cleaning fluid. All he could do was sit, knees under his chin and take stock. He was now in a strange body, like his own but different in a few fundamental ways. If what he had been told was true, he had missed the millennium and most of the first two decades of the new century, but he hadn’t aged. On top of everything now he couldn’t speak and two crazy strong primary school kids had tried to kill him.

He tried to think what might have happened, and where all the missing time had gone, but nothing came, only a sense of dread.

A couple of times the door to the storeroom opened. Thankfully both times the janitor had found what he was looking for near the door and he hadn’t been discovered.

The third time was different. “Jack, are you in here?” asked a quiet voice.

Jack instantly recognised it to be Isaac, but he didn’t leap up to great him. He watched him for a while making sure he wasn’t with someone else. Once he was reasonably sure Isaac was alone, and fearing he would leave Jack stood up, silently waving.

“Jack, what are you doing? Everyone’s going crazy looking for you.” Isaac’s voice sounded worried, but not unkind.

Jack blinked as the Isaac turned the light on. He showed him his notebook, he had already written out what he wanted to say. ‘Someone attacked me last night. They tried to kill me.’

Isaac looked her up and down, for a moment she was worried he wouldn’t believe her.

“Who?”

Jack started scribbling, ‘I don’t know,’ he took a deep breath, ‘they looked like little girls but I can’t be sure who they were.’

He looked up, Isaac looked confused but he was still listening to him.

‘They tied my arms to the sides of the bed and then tried to suffocate me with a pillow. I must have passed out and they thought they had killed me.’

Isaac was close to her now. Gently Isaac took hold of both of his arms, “We have to get you out of here,” he said pulling him into an embrace.

He didn’t know what to do with his hands and arms so he just laid his head against Isaac’s chest. He told himself Isaac was just being a good friend.

---

It was early morning and Andy was up writing again. He’d had a short story accepted for an anthology in America a few months ago and he was determined to develop it into a whole novel. It wasn’t that he hated his job, and he certainly didn’t hate being a single father. All he knew was that he needed something that was just his. Something he could retreat into, if only for an hour or two each day.

The fog outside was thick, almost like smoke. The grey of the fog merged into the crisp white of the snow. The only thing that made the view out of the French Windows differ from a modernist painting in some corporate London office were the occasional spots of green grass. That and the red toy truck Ben had used to pull his sister around in when he was younger.

Try as he might he couldn’t help but be distracted. A red robin landed in the garden. It came up to the glass and started chirping something. It was almost as if it was trying to get his attention. He tried to ignore it and returned to his writing.

The empty screen just stared back at him. He knew he just needed to write something, anything. Get a few lines down and, at some point, he would be away. But nothing came. Perhaps it was the extra large glass of wine he had last night. Or perhaps it was the report he had to get finished for Monday.

Instead of returning to writing he decided to finish the ‘have you seen this cat’ posters for Jess. When Ben was up they would walk around the neighbourhood putting them up. He had stopped off at Staples on his way home last night and purchased a box of clear plastic folders. He hoped they would protect the poster from this weather.

He had decided to go make a cup of coffee when something caught him his attention. There was something in the garden. It had moved too quickly for him to see what it was. Could it be Jess? He went and fetched his keys and coat. The keys sat in a little plate Ben had made at summer school when he was six. Next to the plate was a photograph of Ben’s mum. She looked so young in the picture. What would she have been? Twenty-seven, maybe twenty-eight? If the girl in the photo had seen him now she’d have thought he was an old fart.

She was surrounded by some of her friends; it had been taken when they had all gone to Greece on holiday. What had it been for? Someone's wedding or birthday? He couldn’t remember which. Still it made him smile every time he saw it.

Pulling his coat and wellingtons on he made his way to the back door. Out in the garden everything felt still, all sound deadened by the snow and the fog. Did you normally get fog with snow? (yes!)He couldn’t remember ever having seen it before. The air was cold but fresh, hurting his lungs slightly whenever he took a deep breath.

Again from the corner of his eye he saw movement, a flash of black and white. Could it be Jess? He headed in its direction. All there was at this end of the garden was the old shed. He only really used it for storing stuff nowadays. He wondered how many garden hoses had met their end in there, coiled in a death grip around various lawnmowers and other long forgotten implements.

He heard the unmistakable sound of running tiny feet. He remembered when Ben was two and had just learnt to walk and run. He’d speed off around the house, excited to have the freedom from his parents. The unrestrained joy in his face only matched by the worry in Andy’s.

The noise seemed to be coming from behind the shed. Perhaps Jess had got herself trapped there? Andy decided to investigate. Down that side there was a pile of earth left over from the time he had dug out the little pond. He had always planned to get rid of it sometime. He had a half baked idea of giving it to some charity like a city farm of something. Once it had gone out of sight however, it had gone out of mind.

There was something rummaging around in the dirt. Perhaps it was Jess. How funny to think she had been out here all the time. As he got closer he was shocked to see a little face looking up at him. At first he thought it was a mole or something, but the face looked too human.

The what ever it was jumped up and ran away. Getting a good look at it Andy thought it looked like a garden gnome. At least a garden gnome that had been animated for some 80s horror film.

“You scared him,” Andy jumped; the voice had come behind him.

Standing there were two girls in Brownie uniforms. Not the modern more colourful uniforms girls wore today but the old brown ones he remembered from his youth.

“How did you get in here?” Andy asked perplexed. Had they seen the Missing Cat posters he put up in the local supermarket?

“We said, you scared him,” both the girls said in unison.

“Well he scared me.” Andy leaned forward, “Is that a Swiss army knife? I used to have one of them when I was in the…”

The movement was swift and deadly. The smaller girl leaped up and with one powerful arch of her arm slit his throat. It only took Andy a few moments to die. He just had to hope Ben would be safe.

Unseen People

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

* Thanks as always to Robyn and Chris for their input and support. I wanted to say a special thank you to all of you for your kind comments and messages for Chapters 1 and 2. It’s not always easy to put yourself on the line by posting a story so your comments and support really do mean a lot. Thank you.*

Chapter 3

Vlad and Esty sat at the bus stop and looked up the road towards the moor. The road disappeared into the fog only a few metres away from them.

"Do you think it will come soon?"

"The bus?"

"Of course the bus," Esty tuts. She often had to remind herself that English wasn't Vlad's first language. She shouldn't be so harsh. They both worked at a warehouse in Bury and caught the same early bus. She had agreed to work the Saturday for the overtime, what with Christmas around the corner.

"It seems like we have been waiting for ages," Vlad looked back towards town but there was no sign of it. He picked up the free paper but struggled to open it with his gloved hands. Esty leant over his shoulder and read a story about Christopher Bowman, a celebrity author who had been caught running around Soho in a pink French maid's outfit. He claimed 'little people' had glued it on to him.

"That's not the first time he was caught doing something like that," She pointed the story out to Vlad. "It’s always someone else's fault." She shook her head.

She looked around, sensing some movement coming from town. Two figures appeared out of the fog. These ghostly images slowly formed into recognisable figures, the first a talk black man with soft features, the second a thin girl with short, messy, blond hair. Esty thought the girl looked unwell, but perhaps she was just naturally pale.

The couple stood at the lamppost a little way away from the bus shelter. Etsy watched the girl closely. She seemed to be writing little notes for her boyfriend to read. She kept looking up at him as he read them. Esty was sure they were a couple. The coat the girl wore looked too big, perhaps it belonged to her boyfriend?

Vlad spoke, "Won't this bus ever get here? It feels like we have been waiting forever."

"Yes," Esty sighed in agreement, "It feels like it’s a clumsy metaphor for our lives or something."

---

"Ben? Ben! Can you hear me?" Ben heard the voice but couldn't focus on it. It sounded strange, ethereal. Like it was coming from inside his head not out. He sat, head in hands, on the sofa. A young policewoman sat next to him. She was speaking but he was sure it wasn't her voice that he heard.

Everything seemed so distant. He knew there were more police in the garden, where the... where the... body was... He couldn't think about it. It seemed wrong to think of his dad as just a 'body'.

Two figures, in those white Tyvek overalls forensic people wear, walked through the kitchen and into the garden. Their yellow face masks made them look like they were off to a rave in 1989. Pain built up inside his chest and came out as a loud wail and tears. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried.

The policewoman put a hand on his shoulder. He looked at it as if he had been touched by an alien.

"Do you want a hot drink?" he thought she said. It was as if he were sitting on the seabed listening to her shout from a boat on the surface. He nodded dumbly; at least he'd be alone for a moment. He felt he could handle this if he were on his own.

"Ben, listen to me. We need to get out of here." It was the strange voice again. It sounded like the voice of the actress he fancied from that film. It echoed in his head, more real than anything on the outside.

"Ben, look at me."

Ben looked where he thought the voice was coming from. All he saw was a black and white cat. Jess! When had she come back? Had the owner of the strange voice let her in?

"Where are you?" Ben looked around for the stranger.

"I’m here Ben, straight in front of you."

Ben looked straight forward. Again there was Jess; this time she was licking a paw.

"What?"

"It’s me Ben, Jess." The cat stopped licking her paw and looked straight at him. Their eyes met.

"J-J-Jess. It can't be you? Who is it, who’s trying to punk me? You've picked a pretty fucked up time for a practical joke." This made him cry some more. The universe felt cold and harsh and he no longer had his dad to protect him.

"Ben, we have to go, The Brownies will be after you next."

"Who are The Brownies?" Ben had a vision of little girls in brown uniforms, but that was silly, Jess couldn't mean them. Then he remembered that the Girl Guides got their ‘Brownies’ name from some elf like creatures from folktales. What was happening to him? Was he losing his mind?

"They are the first of the Unseen People. They won't be the last." Jess said. He couldn't see her mouth move but he could tell from her eyes it was her speaking.

"Who are the Unseen People? Why are they doing this?" Ben stammered.

"The Unseen have always been with us. They’re doing this because they’re angry." Jess looked around like she had heard something. Ben was spooked.

"Why are they angry?"

"Because they think you’ve forgotten."

"Forgotten what?"

"Forgotten them."

"Oh," Ben was even more perplexed, "But how could I have forgotten them when I’ve never heard of them before?"

"Not you. You as in people, the Seen People." Jess cocked her cat head to one side, "But we don't have time to talk. Go to your bedroom and pack a bag. Quickly."

"But what’s going on, how can you speak? Why are you a cat? Am I losing it?" The last part came out as a sad whine. Ben's head hurt, he wanted so much to feel the security of his dad's touch, for him to hold him close like he did after mum died, but he would never feel it again.

"No, you are not. At least no more than any other of the Seen. As to why I am a cat? Firstly, because I have always been a cat. Secondly, because whenever you have imagined your own voice outside your body, it was always a cat speaking to you."

This made some dim sense to him. He could remember when they told him mum would die. He had sat with Jess stroking her, scratching behind her ears. It had comforted and soothed him. He had felt that, if he could bring such happiness to another living creature, then perhaps all was not lost. He wasn't such a bad person, he didn't deserve the bad things. Maybe he could be worthy of his mum.

"Yes," said Jess, her voice was softer now, "You were always a good person. Now we must go."

---

There was a knock on the door of the little bungalow in Hernsgate. Ms Rees, Jenny, walked slowly to the door. It was the weekend and she wasn't expecting anyone. Had she ordered something over the Internet and forgotten about it? She was always doing that.

She opened the door, and at first thought it was a joke, no one was there. Then she looked down. Two girls in Brownie uniforms stood there. Their faces looked innocent staring up at her.

"Can I help you two?" Jenny enquired.

The smallest girl with the straight fringe spoke; "Will you buy our biscuits?" she lifted up a box of what looked like home-made biscuits. Most of them were lumpy and misshapen.

"Of course dear." Jenny said, "But my purse is in the kitchen, can you wait a moment?"

"Can we come in?" The tallest asked with a smile so sweet it could cause diabetes.

"Okay, but just for a moment." Jenny looked over the girls as they stood in the hall, "Don't either of you have coats?"

The two little girls shook their heads.

"Hmmm, it's too cold to be out without coats. They said on the radio that it might snow again."

The girls looked at her blankly. The smaller one blinked.

"Well come into the kitchen, I'll see what I have to warm you both up."

Once in the kitchen Jenny gestured for the Brownies to sit at the little table. They did so silently.

"What can I get you both to drink?" Jenny had her back to them. She heard their chairs scrapping on the floor as she opened the fridge door. She could feel them standing behind her. She heard a snapping noise as she poured something out.

She turned quickly seeing the girls about metre away from her. Then she put the saucer of milk she held in her hand down on the floor between them. A Swiss Army Knife clattered to the floor. The two Brownies looked a little confused, a few moments passed and then they knelt down in front of the saucer and began lapping.

Jenny pulled out a chair and sat down. She watched them shrewdly as they lapped up the milk like cats.

After around five minutes the tallest Brownie looked up, "Well played old woman." Her voice was low and resentful.

Jenny rubbed her chin, "Cut out the 'old woman' crap. I am only 55." She studied them for a while longer. Something of their human image had fallen away, although she couldn't put her finger on what.

"So. Were you the ones who took my little Jackie away?"

At first neither of them spoke, they just continued on lapping up the milk. Eventually the smaller one looked up, her face covered in milk and belched.

"No."

"But it was one of the Unseen?"

The little Brownies both nodded slowly.

"And you’ve come to take her back?"

Both Brownies sat up now, milk dripping from their chops. In unison they both shrugged.

"At first, yes," said the tall one

"But then we saw she was the wrong Jack," followed the smaller one.

"What do you mean, the wrong Jack?" demanded Jenny, but then she was overcome by a powerful need to look round. It was as if someone was standing at her shoulder. By the time she had looked back the two Brownies had disappeared. They always left like that.

---

Are you sure your friend can help? Jack was standing close to Isaac for warmth; he had to crane his neck up to look at him as he showed him the note.

Isaac spoke softly, "No one is going to guess you’re staying with her, and she lives out of town so you’re unlikely to be spotted."

Jack nodded. He supposed it made sense. He had thought he'd be staying with Isaac, but that would probably be the first place they looked.

She knows we’re coming? Jack showed him the second note. He watched the couple sitting on the bench in the bus shelter. He didn't suppose there was any way they could hear Isaac.

"I texted her and told her that I was bringing a friend who needed help." Isaac must have caught the worried look on Jack face because he continued, "It will be okay, don't worry."

It wasn't enough. Jack wanted more, but he could see he wasn't going to get it. He stuffed his hands and notebook in the pockets of his coat. It was actually a man's navy pea jacket Isaac had nabbed from the hospital's lost and found. It felt huge. The pockets were like caverns.

Isaac looked at his phone for a while, so Jack looked out into the fog. Somewhere in the distance he could make out shapes moving around. The sound of bleating told him they were sheep. His arm touched with Isaac's telling him he was too close.

He looked up at him. How tall was he? Past six foot. It was hard for Jack to tell heights now his own view was so much lower than before. It hadn't been something he could appreciate in his hospital bed, but now he was getting an idea of the difference. Everything seemed off, just that little bit bigger. It made him feel like a child again.

"Here it comes," Isaac motioned towards the arriving bus.

The bus was only a small one, and it got cold as soon as you moved away from the heater.

"There's a couple of seats at the back," Isaac pointed to the seat that stretched across the full width right at the back. The bus was full of shift workers at this time of the morning. Most were on their way to the warehouses and trucking companies in Heywood or Rochdale.

The pair struggled to the back. Isaac sat down first, Jack looked at the remaining space, there wasn't much room. On the other side from Isaac was a large man. The man had his legs spread open taking up way more than his allotted space. The man must have caught Jack looking because he moved his knees in a fraction each. Jack couldn't say thank you so he just smiled. He hoped it was enough. Still, there was very little room.

Jack sighed. He was just going to have to squeeze in. He tried to make himself as small as possible. Not wanting to get close to the big man, Jack was forced to rub up next to Isaac. It was a tight fit and, as the bus lurched forward, Jack half expected to end up on Isaac's knee. He placed his hands in his lap not knowing what else to do with them.

The bus bumped along the road heading into the hills. After ten or so minutes they were near the top of Hob's Hill. Looking down he could see the valley filled with fog. It looked as though they were driving across the top of the clouds. The bus took a right onto a council estate.

A couple of stops later Isaac nudged her, "This is us." They climbed their way to the front of the bus, past bags and errant feet.

The street was unremarkable. Modern houses lined either side, most semi-detached. At the far end Jack could make out the shape of a larger building he took to be a school. Isaac took his hand, he wanted to protest but had no voice. He could have pulled away, but to do so seemed churlish. Instead he allowed himself to be led.

They walked off the main street and down a foot path. All the while he was acutely aware that his hand was held by another man. He could feel the warmth ; even in the cold it made his hand slightly sweaty.

Eventually they arrived at a row of houses. They were older than the rest of the street. From the style he guessed they had been built in the 80s. Isaac tugged on his hand slightly motioning for her to follow him, "Here we are, Rachel's place."

Isaac finally let go of his hand and walked up to the red door. Jack stood for a while taking in the house. The garden had one large tree. It looked stark against the winter sky bereft of its leaves. He watched as Isaac rang the door bell, he could see movement behind the frosted glass. A moment later it was open.

The woman was tall with long red hair. She wore pyjama bottoms and a small T-shirt. Jack felt uncomfortable as she threw her arms around Isaac. He stood a little way back shifting from one foot to the other.

"Isaac baby, it’s been too long," The woman spoke with a strong Scottish accent. As she looked towards Jack he noticed how pretty she was. "Is this your friend, the one who needs help?"

"Yes, Rachel, meet Jack."

Jack pulled a hand out of his coat pocket and gave a little wave.

"So how do you know our Isaac then?"

"Jack can't speak Rach, she's mute." Isaac explained.

"Oh!" Rach put her hand up to her mouth, "Is that how you know her, from hospital?"

"She was a patient, yes." replied Isaac, he looked nervously around, "Can we speak inside."

The house was cosy, painted in bright clean colours. From the hallway Jack could see into a modern kitchen and then into a little conservatory built on the back.

"I like your retro 90s look," cooed Rach as she took his coat. He smiled at her, not quite able to look her in the eye. He was uncomfortably aware of his breasts, small as they were, sticking out. He tried not to look in Isaac's direction.

"You two go sit down in the living room," Rach pointed the way, "I'll make us a hot drink. What would you like?"

Isaac asked for black coffee. Jack wrote something on his notepad and showed it to Isaac.

"Tea, milk and one sugar," Isaac explained.

"I'll put two in," Rach smiled, "We need to put some meat on those bones."

Jack sat on one end of the sofa and Isaac the other. There was just enough room in between them for a third person although it would be cosy. Rach chose the armchair opposite them both. As the two of them chatted Jack watched Rach. Was she Isaac's girlfriend? Does he have a girlfriend? He knew nothing about him really.

"So, tell me what happened?" Rach leant in to them.

"Jack was brought in two nights ago. She'd been in some sort of accident or fight but doesn't remember what happened." Isaac touched Jack's hand. It was just for a moment but it seemed like an age to Jack. He stared at it but didn't pull back.

The two friends talked. Isaac explained what had happened and how Jack needed a place to hide.

"You poor thing," Jack's mind had wandered off and so he didn't see her coming. Rach had walked over and put her arms around him, sitting on the edge of the sofa. At first he felt uncomfortable, only too aware of her breast pressing into his face, but after a while it felt good. He put his arm around her and before he knew it, he was crying.

Isaac left half an hour later. He had another shift that night and needed to go home for a rest. As he left he asked Jack if she was happy staying with Rach, he nodded and wiped away a tear. He felt close to tears most of the time, but this time they were tears of gratitude. At the door Rach hugged Isaac good bye. Jack watched from a distance, uncomfortably aware of his body and not knowing what to do with it.

When Isaac put his arm around her it came as a surprise. It was even more surprising to him when he kissed Isaac on the cheek. He blamed it on the lack of sleep. He could feel the adrenaline that had sustained him through the night and the morning, draining away.

"You look beat," Rach said after she had shut the front door, "Wait down here, I'll go get the spare room set up so you can get some sleep."

Jack sat back on the sofa and looked at the TV. With everything else he hadn't noticed it was on. It was huge, seemingly too large for this room. The picture quality was amazing however. He tried to find the remote and instead found several. Looking at them he didn't know where to begin so he settled on the cooking programme that was already on.

He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew Rach was shaking him awake.

"Come on sleepy head," She said to him, "let’s get you comfortable."

The spare room was crammed with old books and boxes of paperwork. Jack wondered what it was Rach did for a living. In the middle of the room was a large bed, which looked extremely comfortable to him right then. On top of the bed was a folded up T-shirt with some logo he didn't recognise and a pair of pyjama bottoms.

"OK, I'll leave you to it," Rach turned to leave. He smiled what he hoped was his most grateful smile.

Rach stopped at the door, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but you like Isaac don't you?"

Jack was caught off guard and too tired to think of a proper reply so he just shrugged.

"Oh, don't worry. Your secret is safe with me, but I do see the way you look at him." Rach seemed a little sad. He wondered if she was his ex?

"It’s just," she seemed to pause for some time, "He's been through a lot. I wouldn't like to see him get hurt."

With that she turned and left. Jack just stood there for a moment literally unable to reply.

---

Wren woke up, her phone buzzing and head thumping. The first thing she noticed was the extra presence in her bed. She was used to being able to spread out without thought. She turned and saw the outline of Tom lying on his side. It looked to her like the outline of some unknown mountain range.

She moved as carefully as she could manage. Thankfully Tom didn’t seem to be waking. She reached her phone and tiptoed out of the bedroom.

“Hello?” She could hear the previous night in her voice.

“Wren, it’s Mark,” she didn’t need the introduction, she recognised his voice immediately.

“Mark? What’s happening? It’s my day off.” She couldn’t keep the note of petulance out of her voice.

“I’m sorry, Jacobs insisted that I call you.” She heard him take a deep breath, “Your Jane Doe has gone missing.”

“Jack?” she said quietly but Mark heard it.

“If that’s her name, yes. The ward sister checked on her about three hours ago and she was missing. They searched the hospital but found nothing. We’ve been trying to call you for hours.”

“Sorry, I left my phone on silent,” She didn’t know why she apologised; she had every right to keep her phone on silent when she wasn’t in work. She rubbed her temples in a vain attempt to stop the pounding, “Has anyone called the mother?”

“Sorry, Jacobs wants you to do it. He says you have a relationship with her and that I’d just panic her,” she could hear that he wasn’t happy about it.

“OK, OK, I’ll get dressed and then I’ll head around to her place,” she thought of Tom lying in her bed and how nice it would have been to wake together, maybe get some breakfast. “Just give me a while to get myself together.”

The Lunchbox was a small cafe on the Hernsbridge Road. It was opposite a small, free car park. She looked out at the traffic. It was quieter than in the week, although it would get busier when people started heading into Manchester for shopping and football. What has it been? Three, four hours? Jack could be almost anywhere.

She looked down at her scrambled eggs, then up at Tom tucking into a sausage. This wasn’t how the weekend was supposed to go.

“Why do you think she’s run away,” Tom asked between mouthfuls.

She sighed, “It could be many things, but my guess is she’s frightened of something,” she scooped some egg up on her fork, “or someone.”

“The person who kidnapped her in the first place?” Tom asked, Wren shrugged. “You said you found her mum, could she have run away from abuse at home?”

She put her knife and fork down, “I said we may have found her mum,” she paused to think, “a lot of things don’t add up, but I don’t think her mum abused her.” She thinks of the look on the girl’s face when she first saw her mum. She had been frightened, but not of her. It had been more the sort of fright you get with a surprise.

“How about the dad?”

“I’m not really sure I should be telling you all this,” she looked at him, she enjoyed holding his attention, “We haven’t tracked the dad down yet. Apparently he and his mother split a few years after Jack went missing. They couldn’t handle being together according to the mum. They reminded each other too much of what they had lost.

“Look,” she had come to a decision, “I shouldn’t really be doing this, but do you want to tag along?” She couldn’t read his expression, “I mean you brought her in, you might be able to spot something,” her voice trailed off.

“Sure,” he smiled, “might be interesting.”

---

Ben gently picked up his backpack with Jess’s head poking out from underneath the flap.

“Where are we going?” He whispered.

“The tree,” Jess said mysteriously.

“The tree, what tree?” Ben was on the edge of hysterics, but Jess ducked back into the bag.

He crept as quietly as he could along the corridor. He could feel Jess manoeuvring in the bag.

"That tree?" Ben stared in disbelief. He had known the tree for what seemed like his whole life. It was old and worn looking. Even in summer it looked a little bare. It marked one corner of the playing field of his old primary school.

"That's the tree, we need to get to it," He heard Jess say. He was aware the voice was coming from behind him. Now that he could no longer see her face doubts had begun to creep in. Was he experiencing some sort of episode? "Hurry up, we may not have much time."

There were two ways to get to the tree. The quickest was to cut across the field. Easy enough to do as the school fence was low. The second was to walk around the footpath along the side of the new estate. Ben could remember when the new estate had been fields, and then, when he moved from the infants to the juniors they had started constructing the new houses. He used to play in their empty shells with his friends. He lost a trainer to cement there once. He wondered if it was still there in the foundations of one of the houses he was looking at?

He could see kids playing in the playground. He could just about make out the faces of the teachers, most of whom he recognised. Despite Jess's urgency nothing would make him cross onto that ground. Both his mum and dad had been alive when he last set foot there.

Jess said nothing as he set off along the footpath, although he could feel her turning to get herself comfortable. Was it just him or were the shadows getting longer and deeper.

"How can this tree be special?" He spoke loudly, hoping to fill the vacuum with sound.

"It always has."

"I remember James Taylor and I found a half empty pack of cigs there once. We both smoked one each and made ourselves sick," Ben looked straight ahead. He didn't remember the walls being so high around here. Wasn't everything supposed to seem smaller than you remembered at your old primary school?

Something bothered Ben, there just at the edge of his perception. It took him a while to figure it out. On every second step the echo lasted a little longer than it should.

"They know we are here."

Ben felt sweat in the palm of his hands. If this wasn't real it was having a very real effect on him.

Who ever was following them no longer tried to mask their footsteps. Their pace quickened. For a moment Ben did nothing, he hadn't wanted it to be true, but soon the sounds were unmistakable. He was being follow, scratch that, chased. Ben broke into a run.

They turned the corner so they were facing the tree.

"You'll be safe there," he heard Jess say, although for the life of him he had no idea why.

The tree was as old and grey as he remembered. The empty crisp packets and other rubbish around its base told him it was still being used as a safe haven for slacking.

The footsteps behind them were quickening. They sounded odd, too small. Like the feet of children. He could see the tree getting closer and closer but it just seemed too far off. He wasn't going to make it.

"Jump, jump now!" Shouted Jess, real urgency in her voice.

He dived forward, not really knowing why and was able to crawl forward enough to touch the half dead wood with the tips of his fingers. Then everything went blank.

Ben came around slowly. He was in some great wooden hall. It reminded him of a drawing in one of his old history books that showed the feasting hall of a Viking chieftain. Only this seemed too big for a wooden structure of that era.

"Well done," He looked down, Jess was in front of him. "You saved us," She began purring and rubbing herself against his legs.

"Who, what..." Ben looked out across the great hall. On the walls were round shields displaying different colours and patterns. At one end was a raised platform with a tall wooden seat. What caught his attention the most were the orange globes that covered the floor. Each one was just above waist level and glowed strangely. He soon became aware that they were the only light source in the room.

He went up to one and peered in. It was semi-transparent and he could make out something moving inside. He looked closely, and then jumped back startled. He had seen the shadow of a man inside.

"They are the Bubble People," a male voice boomed out from behind him. For the second time in the space of a few minutes Ben jumped in shock.

Behind him was a white cat with patches of tabby fur.

"My apologies, I did not mean to frighten you young one," its voice was old and measured, the opposite of its young, sleek face.

"Mr Tiddles, this is the young one of whom I spoke,"

He sniggered, "Are you really called Mr Tiddles?"

The white and tabby cat looked a little put out, "It is the name I was given, yes," there was a pause, "It is a very fine name in the cat world."

Ben decided to try a different tack, "I’m sorry, this is all so strange to me."

"Of course," Mr Tiddles said magnanimously, "You have been through much. We were sorry to hear of your father."

He wanted to change the subject, "So who are all these people, why are they in these," he tried to look for the right word, "bubbles?"

"They are sleeping child," Mr Tiddles stood up on his hind legs, "We find them and bring them here for protection."

"Who is putting them in the bubbles?" Ben asked. His head was swimming, perhaps he really had lost it.

"We don’t know."

“You don’t?”

“No,” Mr Tiddles seemed vexed.

Ben waved his hands around exasperated, "So how do you know they need your protection?"

Mr Tiddles cocked his head to one side, "They are pretty and shiny and move around when we bat them." Ben could hear the uncertainty in the cat’s voice, “They must need our protection.”

Jess jumped up and curled up in his lap, "I know it is hard to take in," her voice purred, "but we only want to help."

"Ben, Son of Andrew," said Mr Tiddles, "It is time you learnt of your destiny.

---

Ash woke up, coughing as if his lungs were filled with goo. At first he wasn’t sure if his eyes were still closed because it was so dark. Only when he tried to open them further did he realise they were already wide open.

He remembered the dream he was having just before he woke up. He had been chased through some wood somewhere. It had reminded him of woods like Delamere Forest where his mum had taken him for walks when he was little. Only Delamere was small and the dream forest seemed to have no end. He never saw his pursuer but only knew he had to escape. Eventually he had reached the darkest part of the forest. The temperature had seemed colder there, with water turning into ice and his breath visible in front of him. Only then did he realise that it wasn’t only his own breath that he could see. Then he woke up.

He felt constrained on all sides, where was he. He tried to push out with his arms and legs but they were pinned close to his sides. He kept pushing against whatever surrounded him. It felt like wood. Was he in some sort of box? Everything was slippery, covered in some sort of mucus. He fought back his revulsion, there would be time to worry about that once he was free.

He tried moving his head but found something was holding it to the ceiling of where ever he was. He yanked his head to one side and felt something tugging at his hair. It hurt bad, something was attached to his hair. Who would do that and why? Taking a deep breath he gave it a bigger yank. This time something came free. He wanted to scream out but his throat seemed dry and coarse, no sound came out. It took a few yanks but finally his head was free. Hair covered his face. How had it grown so long? Had someone glued a wig to his head?

There was a cracking sound near where he pushed his foot forward. A tiny crack of light came in. There was an outside, if only he could break free completely. The task was arduous and he had to stop several times to rest. He felt weak and his muscles took longer than normal to respond. Had he been drugged?

More cracks appeared in his prison. Grey light shone through blindinghim. There was a loud cracking noise and then his left leg went through and out into the open. He could feel cold air against his bare skin. He sat back for a few moments composing himself. With both feet he started to push, using his arms against the back to increase the pressure. Within a few minutes he hand made a hole just big enough for him to slip out feet first.

Ash lay on the ground panting, every part of his body ached. He wanted to sleep but couldn’t allow himself. He had no idea where he was or how he got there. He just knew he was in trouble. He tried to stand but his muscles refused. Something felt wrong about his body, beyond the pain. Like all the settings were off by just a little.

Slowly his eyes became accustomed to the light. He had to brush hair out of his eyes, but could see he was in some sort of old Victorian-style green house. It was large and full of strange plants. Each plant had a large, egg shaped stem disappearing into the ground. Ash looked backwards at where he had just escaped. It was a similar egg shaped space at the foot of a young looking tree.

Ash crawled on all fours to the nearest undamaged plant. It looked like a giant Aspidistra with an egg shape at the bottom. He steadied himself. He didn’t know if he really wanted to see what he was sure he would. He started pulling at the wood (he could think of no better word to describe it than bark)that covered the egg-like shape.

His arms were thin and lacked muscle. How long had he been in that egg? He finally broke a piece away. Looking in he could see the face of a sleeping woman. Like him, she was covered in a mucus like goo.

Using the strange plant as a support he pulled himself up. Half standing half crouching he looked around. The greenhouse seemed to go on forever. How many plants where there? Did they all have people in them?

Somewhere in the distance he heard voices. They spoke in a strange language he didn’t recognise. He looked back at the sleeping woman, how long would it take him to free her? Was she even still alive? He couldn’t see any evidence she was breathing. He looked in the direction he thought the voices were coming from. They didn’t sound urgent but they were getting closer. He had to get away. All he could do was seek help.

He began hobbling away limping as fast as he could. The rows and rows of plants seemed to go on forever. He willed his muscles to work although he could feel them screaming in protest as he did.

The voices were close enough for him to be able to make out three distinct figures by the time he reached the door. There was an old wooden chair propped up by the door. Underneath there was a pile of dirty rags. Ash bent down, not an easy task with every part of him aching. Pulling out the rags he found they were clothes. Grey-green overalls and a red plaid shirt that had obviously been used to clean up dirt.

Realising just how cold he was he decided to pull them on. Both the overalls and the shirt were comically too big for him. But with the legs and the sleeves rolled up they would do. The clothes sat strangely on him, he wasn’t sure why though?

He opened the door slowly wincing as it made a creaking sound. Outside he discovered a discarded pair of wellington boots. They were caked in mud and so large they came up to his knees but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

From inside he heard shouting, his escape had been discovered. He had to go now. Looking back he couldn’t see anyone yet, then somethingstartled him. The face of a young woman or girl peered back at him. She was pretty, with high cheekbones and mysterious grey eyes, but very dishevelled. Her long raven black hair was plastered against her pale skin.

At first he thought the girl was a ghost but after a few moments he realised she was a reflection. Touching his own face he realised she was his own reflection. He stood staring until he was jarred out of his daze by the sight of three grey shapes moving through the greenhouse towards him. He turned and fled.

---

The house was in the middle of a post war council estate on the edge of town. These solid houses had been built by people whose lives had lacked any certainty or security after the depression of the thirties and then the war.

“This is the place,” said Wren, checking the address on her phone.

“Looks normal enough,” Tom’s voice came from behind her as they walked up the little pathway.

“We’ve both seen plenty of bad things happen in places just as normal as this,” Wren cautioned as she pressed the bell.

It took a while for Ms Rees to open the door, when she did she peered at them as if she half didn’t believe they were there.

“Can I help you Inspector?” She looked tired.

“Ms Rees, have you heard anything from your daughter?” Wren prepared to study Ms Rees’ expression.

“No, wait? Isn’t she with you?” Ms Rees said. Wren could see only confusion in her face.

“I am afraid she left the hospital this morning. We want to track her down. Have you seen her?” She left the question as open ended as possible.

“I haven’t heard anything from her,” Her eyes darted from Wren to Tom and back again, “Who is he? He's not police.”

Wren guessed she must have remembered Tom from the hospital.

“My colleague is a medical professional. We thought it prudent he come along, just to check on her,” she watched the fear grow in Ms Rees’s eyes. Either she knew nothing of Jack’s disappearance or she was one hell of an actress. Still, she had to be sure, “I want to impress on you Ms Rees that Jack is in no trouble. She is completely free to come and go as she pleases. We only want to make sure she is well and safe. "

“You better come in,” Ms Rees said, “You need to tell me everything.”

Ms Rees led them into her living room indicating for them to sit down. There was nothing particularly special about the room. Wren recognised most of the furniture from visits to Ikea with a few other pieces. The artwork on the walls was a little strange though. Tom went to sit down on the sofa while Wren inspected the walls. The first photograph she looked at was of a bearded man standing behind a young girl sitting on an avocado green slide. By the look of the clothes it had been taken in the early 80s. It was mounted and framed and, by Wren’s guess, it was a professional job. The style was very modern.

“Is this Jack and her father?” She asked.

“Oh yes,” Ms Rees said absentmindedly, “Anyone for tea?”

Wren told her she was fine but Tom asked for a builder’s tea - milk and two sugars. Ms Rees seemed to warm to Tom and smiled at him. Wren felt a little annoyed by this. She didn’t like the way she gently touched his shoulder, but pushed it down.

“What does it say underneath, Wio Dworh?” Wren asked trying to read the strange writing; ‘Wið Dweorh’. What language was it ? One of the Scandinavian ones?

“It’s an old good luck charm, I just liked it.” Ms Rees disappeared into the kitchen.

As she heard the sounds of a kettle being boiled Wren continued to look around. One photograph, black and white this time, showed a man dressed in a strange straw costume. The next showed a man in some old pub dressed in what looked like a German dress uniform from the First World War.

“What happened to Jack’s dad?” She asked as Ms Rees re-entered the room carrying two mugs. She gave one to Tom who thanked her and sat down in the armchair with the other.

She blew on the tea before answering, “You asked me that before. As I said then, our marriage didn’t really last long after Jack disappeared. I guess it was too much of a reminder of what we had lost.”

Wren interrupted her, “But do you know what happened to him? Where he is I mean?”

Ms Rees took another sip of her tea, “The last I heard from him he was working in the Middle East somewhere, earning quite a bit of money doing something IT related for a big company out there. I emailed him just last night, to tell him what had happened.”

“Could I have his email address?”

“Sure,” Ms Rees slowly put her tea down, “It is on my computer, I’ll just go and get it.”

She left the room. Wren waited until she was sure they weren’t being overheard, “So what do you think?”

Tom paused for a moment, “She seems genuine, about not knowing where her daughter is I mean. She looked terrified when you told her.”

Wren nodded, that was true, “Something doesn’t add up though, something she’s not telling us.”

“Do you think Jack is with the dad?” Tom asked.

“No,” this time it was Wren’s turn to pause for thought, “We’d know if she had tried to leave the country and where would she get a passport from without any money? Anyhow I don’t think she’d know where he is. Remember when she went missing her mum and dad were together.” She stopped talking when Ms Rees re-entered to room.

She passed Wren a card with a neatly written email address on it. Wren thanked her.

“Do you have any idea where she could be?” Wren asked.

“No, sorry. All of her friends have moved away or moved in with partners and the such. Even the ones she was close to she’d hardly recognise today.” She looked Wren directly in the eyes, “I don’t know what happened to my daughter. Why doesn’t she seem to have aged at all, but those years have taken and given a lot to those of us who took the long wayto get here? I doubt she is in contact with any of them. Hell, I doubt she even has a Facebook account.”

Wren’s phone started ringing. She saw that it was work. “I am sorry,” she said, “I am going to have to take this. It might be about Jack.” Ms Rees didn’t say anything, she just nodded, her face turning a little whiter.

As Mark spoke to her on the phone she watched Tom and Ms Rees interacting. She was impressed by the way he quickly got her to trust him. He leaned in, his body language signalled trust.

“I am sorry Ms Rees but we are going to have to leave you,” she looked between the two of them, “another girl has gone missing.” They both looked startled.

As they gathered their coats Wren remembered something, “You never told me what Wio Dworh means?”

Ms Rees smiled, directing them towards the door, “Oh it is just an old good luck charm. It literally means Against a Dwarf.”

“A dwarf?” Wren was surprised. She thought of the bearded short men in the Lord of the Rings films.

“In Anglo-Saxon times dwarfs were thought of as night spirits,” Ms Rees told them, when she saw their blank expressions, “They were the personification of infections or bad dreams. It’s is meant to keep you safe from illness.”

Wren nodded. It was strange but made sense. Just as they were at the door Ms Rees grabbed her by the arm.

“Inspector, I fear my daughter is in grave danger, please help her,” Ms Rees’ voice wavered as she spoke.

“Of course, we will do everything we can to find your daughter,” The standard response. You had to reassure them but you were never to make a promise you might have tobreak or be unable to fulfil.

Ms Rees let go of her arm, “I can tell you are someone who will help her, and your young man as well. Good luck.”

Before Wren could say anything the door was closed and she was alone with Tom on the steps.

---

By the time Jack woke it was already getting dark outside. For a few minutes he lay there watching the snowflakes dance in the wind. Some of the houses had already turned their lights on. Across the city people were sitting down to Saturday evening telly. Jack wondered if Bruce Forsyth still presented the Generation Game?

Then something happened he’d never seen before, the streetlights turned on. Jack thought this must have happened once a day every day for the whole of his life, yet this was the only time he had ever witnessed it.

He lay there for more than ten minutes, listening to the sound of Rach moving around downstairs. Finally he thought he needed to do something. His head was groggy; to try and wake it up he made an inventory of the room . It was clearly a spare room as, despite the bed, its main purpose was obviously storage. From the boxes of paperwork, exercise books and shelves filled with textbooks, young adult novels and various souvenirs from trips he guessed Rach was a teacher.

He rooted around before finding the switch for the bedside lamp. He pulled his sluggish body upright and threw the cover off. He was embarrassed to find he was wearing only a T-shirt, with Yellow Class Chester Zoo Trip 2014 printed on it and a pair of women’s black underpants. The ink of some of the letters on the T-shirt had begun to flake off. The way it pushed out from his chest and the flatness at the front of his underwear were too disturbing for him to take in. He needed a distraction.

He stood up and walked over to the largest bookshelf. The first item he picked up was a badly made green ceramic mug with the words World’s Best Aunt painted on it, only Aunt was spelt ‘Arnt’. Next to that was a small cuddly bull with a tag that said ‘Vacas Locas’. Behind them was a class photo. Rach and another woman stood either side of a group of beaming children. He looked at their innocent little faces looking up at him, there was so much hope there. If that policewoman was right then none of them had even been born the last time he remembered the world had made sense. Hell, probably most of their parents had not even met.

There was a loud bang and clatter from downstairs, then he heard Rach swear loudly. She must have dropped some pots and pans. He wondered what she was cooking. Whatever, the noise had brought him out of himself. He looked around the room again, this time with a more practical eye.

Across from the bed was a little table and swivel chair. The space between the bed and the table wasn’t big enough for the chair to turn around completely, but at least you could sit down reasonably comfortably. On the table was a metallic grey laptop that looked both smaller and sleeker than anything he’d seen before. Hanging over the back of the chair were some clothes.

Reaching out and picking up the clothes he guessed were meant for him. He laid them out on the bed. The bra and panties were bland enough for him to cope with. He struggled putting the bra on, cursing and wondering why they didn’t make the clasps easier to attach from behind your back? His arms ached as he did it, a reminder he’d just left hospital. The pants were simpler although he refused to look as he put them on. For some reason he could cope with his chest, but the emptiness at his crotch was too much. He just had to ignore it and find time to deal with it later.

Moving the clothes around he hoped to find trousers or at least shorts. He was not happy to find black tights and a short skirt. At least the top was better, a plain white T-shirt and a peach coloured cardigan. He spent a good ten or fifteen minutes trying to put the tights on before he came up with the solution of balling them up before slowly rolling them up his legs one leg at a time. After that he pulled the T-shirt and cardigan on.

He stared at the little black skirt; it almost seemed to be more indecent with it than without. For a moment he thought about going downstairs as he was and demanding some trousers. But that seemed very ungrateful to someone who had been so kind and really had no reason to be so.

A knock on the front door made him jump. He held his breath as he listened to Rach going to the front door. In his mind he could clearly see the Brownies waiting on the other side for her. Every atom in his body wanted to scream out in warning. The door opened and he heard the voices of Isaac and Rach greeting each other. He sagged as he soundlessly let out the air in his lungs. He hadn’t realised he had been holding his breath until then.

Looking down at the little skirt he steeled himself. It may not offer much cover but at least it stopped him from baring his bum to Isaac.

How could such a small garment be so restricting? His every step down the stairs reminded him of the tugging on his hips and the need to keep his legs together for the sake of modesty.

“How is she doing?” Jack heard Isaac’s whispered voice.

“Good, I think. She’s been sleeping, but I heard her moving around just a moment ago…” Rach stopped as she saw him emerging down the stairs. “Hey Jacks, you look great,” Rach turned to Isaac for confirmation, “Doesn’t she look great Isaac?”

Isaac just nodded. Jack could feel eyes going up and down his body taking it all in. Jack had heard women use the expression ‘why don’t you take a picture, it’ll last longer,’ before, now he understood it fully. Funnily enough he felt quiet proud that he had Isaac’s full attention, although he dismissed it as quickly as he could. After all it was understandable he’d be happy to see the person who had helped him so much.

“Food’s nearly done,” said Rach looking between them, “do you both want wine?”

“Sure,” said Isaac grinning. Jack nodded, he wasn’t sure if he could handle it, but he figured it was a normal thing for him to do.

They sat in the front room, some weird singing contest on the TV. The contestants kept talking about doing it for their dead Gran or similar. Jack wondered why that was relevant? He sat on a cushion on the floor, his legs folded underneath him. Rach had looked a little disappointed when he hadn’t sat down next to Isaac on the sofa.

After they had finished eating the delicious lasagne Rach had cooked for them she went and fetched a little black box.

“I thought we could play this,” she put the box down on the coffee table, “I figured it would be something Jack could play just as easily as us.”

He looked at the writing on the box as Rach began dealing out the cards. It said, ‘Cards Against Humanity’.

“It’s simple enough,” Rach explained, “We each take it in turns to read one of the black cards,” she looked at Jack, “You can just show it to us. Then the other two have to select one of their white cards to finish it with. The reader selects the one she, or he, thinks is the funniest.”

Jack looked down at the cards in his hands, amongst them he had:

“A posh wank,” “72 virgins,” and “Emma Watson.” He hand no idea who this ‘Emma Watson’ was. People in the future had some strange ways of entertaining themselves. They all sat on the floor around the little coffee table.

The night and the wine both flowed quickly. After the first few rounds Rach went and fetched a large tube filled with plastic dinosaurs, “I give them out to the good children in class, when they get points for their houses, like Griffindor and Slytherin,” Jack had no idea what she was talking about - since when did British primary schools have houses? “We each get a dinosaur when we win,” she finished explaining.

Jack had the distinct impression Rach and Isaac were letting him win. He certainly had more dinosaurs then either of them. He also noticed how Rach was topping up his glass even when it wasn't empty.

Rach read out the card, “What never fails to liven up the party?”

Jack looked through his cards, he didn’t have many good ones left. He figured he’d get rid of one he didn’t understand and let Isaac take this one.

“OK,” Rach put her hands on the two cards they had put down, “What never fails to liven up the party…” She turned over the first card, “Concealing an erection.”

Jack silently laughed, rolling back on the floor. He had to pick himself up silent tears running down her cheeks. He didn’t know why he found it so funny - perhaps it was the mention of an erection that pierced his awkwardness? Whatever, the rude ones always worked for him.

As he composed himself he looked at Isaac who was giving him a funny look; it made Jack avert his eyes quickly. He felt tingly and awkward, but he felt something else, underneath. Was it a sense of power? After feeling abandoned in a strange place and in a strange time it felt more than a little good to be able to compel someone to want to stick around.

Rach looked between the two of them, not for the first time that night. “Okay, I can see which one you liked the best,” she smiled to herself, “Well lets see the other contender.”

“What never fails to liven up the party… Ed Balls.” Both Rach and Isaac laughed, although they didn’t roll around the same way Jack had. Jack had no idea who this Ed Balls was, only that he had a mildly amusing name. “Well I think that is two against one, Ed wins it.”

Isaac threw up his hands in mock protest, “What? No! You saw the way she laughed so hard at my concealed erection. Concealing an erection has to win, I’ve been hiding that all evening.”

They all laughed at the innuendo, Jack wondered if he had planned that from the beginning?

“Tough luck bozo, Jack and Ed won the dinosaur fair and square,” Rach reached into the tube and pulled out a green T-Rex, “Oh bum, that’s the last one.” She passed it to Jack and thought for a second, “I think I have something we can use in the spare room.” She got up and darted out of the room.

“No waaay is that fair,” Isaac leaned back on his arms, Jack couldn’t help but notice his broad shoulders, “That was my best card.”

Jack smiled mockingly at him. He took the dinosaur and wiggled it around bouncing it on Isaac’s knee. He had no idea why he was being so silly, the wine he guessed. But he was enjoying teasing Isaac, it made him feel normal. He began moving the dinosaur up Isaac’s leg getting closer and closer to his thigh. Jack had to get up onto his knees to reach Isaac. He wasn’t sure exactly when Isaac froze, but something about it changed the atmosphere.

Without really thinking about it Jack’s face had become close to Isaac’s. He watched Isaac’s eyes staring at him. They were so brown and soft and he had them completely to himself. He was on all fours holding himself over Isaac. His breasts were close to Isaac’s chest, and he could feel a tingling spreading throughout his new body. How long did they have? Surely Rach wouldn’t take that long? Running on wine and instinct he closed his eyes and leaned in.

Before their lips could touch he felt the pressure of Isaac’s hands on his shoulders pushing him back. He opened his eyes surprised. He hadn’t really meant to do it, not really, but he had just assumed Isaac wanted him to.

“Sorry Jack, look I really am. We just can’t do this,” Isaac stammered.

Oh god, had he read the signals all wrong? Were Rach and Isaac an item, did he have another girlfriend. Why had he done it? He had never fancied boys before. The thought disgusted him.

Perhaps it was him. Maybe Isaac just didn’t like him? He’d assumed Isaac had been helping him because he wanted to get with him, but what if he was just being kind. He felt worthless, especially for just assuming he could take advantage of Isaac who had only been nice to him. He wanted to crawl under the sofa and never come out again.

Isaac looked like he was just about to say something when the doorbell rang. They both looked around.

“Is anyone expecting someone,” came Rach’s voice from upstairs.

They both turned and looked at each other with blank expressions. The doorbell rang again.

Isaac voiced Jack’s fear as he got up, “You'd better stay out of sight, maybe they have tracked you here.” Isaac went to the door, Jack could hear Rach coming down the stairs.

Jack went behind the half open living room door, watching what was happening through the crack between the door and the frame.

He saw the front door open and Isaac ask who was there. A voice boomed out, it sounded posh and well groomed. It was loud and suggested the owner was used to not having to hide his opinions.

“Hello,” it boomed, “My name is Peter Pan and I’m here to speak to the young lady Jack.”

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.

Unseen People

Chapter 5

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

Jack is coming to accept her new life as she grows closer to Isaac and Ben. Wren and Tom follow a little bird into a strange forest. Ash has to come to terms with hoop skirts and bonnets in 19th century Manchester.

Thanks to Robin, Chris and Jess for all their help editing and proofing. Please keep reviewing and commenting, I want to improve as a writer and your ideas help feed into the story.

Chapter 5

Life had been hard on Stan. It had never quite lived up to the promise and ecstasy of his Hacienda days. Now in his forties he had been running his little newsagents on the approach to Piccadilly Station for five years now. It was in the nature of his location that he was used to strangers. He had few regulars other than the blurry-eyed commuters who spoke very little in the mornings.

That morning was no different. It was a little past ten so the rush had died down and Stan could hear his DAB radio playing the hits of the 90s in the background. Lazily he watched the stranger pace around his shop.

Stan was used to the odd, few people who looked their best after a long train journey, but this stranger seemed odder than most. He was dressed in a well-tailored pin-stripe suit. Not odd in and of itself. City types were always coming up for meetings. What was strange was that this man had wild, untamed hair and a thick full beard. When he placed a newspaper on the counter Stan noticed the black hairs on the back of his hands.

“I say, could you help me?” The stranger asked, “I am looking for a place called Lee Ho Fook's.”

Stan shook his head, “Sorry, haven’t heard of it. Do you have a lunch meeting?”

The stranger shook his head, “No, just going to get me a big dish of beef chow mein.” The stranger placed his briefcase on the counter, flipping it open. Stan noticed the name ‘Wilfred Glendon’ in neat, gold embossed letters.

Wilfred saw him looking, “Friends call me Will,” he smiled a toothy grin and held out his hand..

Half stunned, Stan took the proffered hand. Wilfred, or Will’s handshake was uncommonly firm. Stan noticed his long, sharp fingernails.

As Will put his paper in his briefcase a question came into Stan’s mind, “Are you in town for business?” He was on firmer ground, this was his go to question.

“No, Manchester just seems to be the place to be at the moment.”

Stan nodded. Of course, as a Mancunian he already knew this. It was just good to hear a Southerner confirm it.

“Now this beef chow mein. Where should I go?”

Something about the way Will’s teeth glinted in the weak electric light kept Stan’s attention, “Keep going down the approach and then take a left down Portland Street. When you are about halfway down take a right and you’ll be in China Town.”

“Sounds like a howling good idea,” Will smiled to himself as he picked up his umbrella and suitcase. “Let's see what Manchester has to offer.”

---

“Tap, Tap, Tap.”

Each little rap on the window went straight through Wren’s head. As she opened her eyes she noticed the half drunk glass of wine on the bedside table. That was where the smell was coming from.

“Tap, tap, tap,”

Her head swam in the fog of regret. After she pulled herself up she noticed that she had slept on the right hand side of the bed. The left seemed very empty.

“Tap, tap, tap,”

She got out of bed and staggered towards the window. The curtain was slightly open. Dust danced in the dirty light.

“Tap, tap, tap,”

“What!” grunted Wren as she pulled open the curtains. Even the dim light coming from outside was enough to blind her for a moment. After it had past she found herself looking down at a small red breasted bird. It lent its head to one side and looked at her. It seemed to be asking her a question.

Wren opened the top window section hoping to dispel the smell of dust and stale wine. Today was the first of two days off. The first time she had two days off back to back in months. She had been planning to spend it in bed.

The robin surprised her by flying up to the narrow crack in the window. It sat on the window frame for a moment seeming to survey the bedroom before flying in further.

“Shit,” Wren cursed as she watched the little bird fly around and around the light. “Now, what am I going to do with you?”

The robin flew down and perched on the huge pile of Wren’s clean clothes that had accumulated on the floor. Wren always meant to put them away but never got around to it.

“There’s a broom downstairs,” she thought, “that’ll do it.” Walking into the living room she saw the empty wine bottle, reminding her of the night before. She thought of Tom’s face when she had told him. He’d looked sad, hurt even. Why? She had been sure he was going to break with her. She was only protecting herself.

Armed with a broom she returned to the bedroom. She was surprised to see the robin had spread her clothes across the floor. She swung the broom in annoyance, causing the robin to fly up and land on the top of her wardrobe. Again it tilted its little head as if wanting to ask something.

Wren came over to the wardrobe and began trying to scare the little bird away. She grunted in annoyance as it playfully flapped out of the way of each of her strokes. She put down the broom and pulled over her little chairs so she could stand on it.

The little bird seemed to know something. It kept hopping around and pointing its beak to the ground.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she grunted as it ignored her best efforts. Over time her arms became too tired, forcing her to give up. She’d just have to leave the windows open, shut the door and hope the bird got tired and left before doing any real damage.

It was then that she noticed the floor. Her clothes were not spread out randomly; they are arranged in a neat pattern. It took her a while to realise they formed letters and words. It took her a while to figure them all out. As she reached the final letter the robin flew down and sat on her shoulder. The clothes spelt out:

‘THE FOREST’

The forest? What did that mean? Did it mean the Forest of Bowland, or one of the little woodlands near by? She felt the little bird land on her shoulder, it nudged her cheek with its beak.

She looked down at the pile of clothes and the turned her head towards the bird. She has seen a lot during the last few weeks, what was one more strange thing to her?

“You’re no normal robin are you?”

She watched as the robin shook his little head.

The little robin sat on the kitchen table as Wren went through her fridge. “What do you eat?” she asked not expecting an answer. A picture of a robin pulling a worm out of the ground came into her mind. “How does some old bacon sound?” she looked at the opened packet of bacon, it was past its sell-by date but it didn’t smell. As she took it out and placed in on a little plate the bird danced around and chirped happily.

Sipping coffee, she watched as the bird tucked into the sliced strips she had presented to it.

“What are you trying to tell me?” she took a sip of her coffee, “What does ‘The Forest’ mean?”

The robin didn’t seem to acknowledge her, focusing instead on its meal.

She looked at her phone, who was going to believe her? Who could she call that wouldn’t think she was mental?

---

At 10am Jack gave up on trying to sleep. Isaac lay next to her snoring gently. She had spent the last half an hour watching his chest rise and fall but was now worrying she was turning into one of those crazy girlfriends. ‘Girlfriend’, was that what she was ? As a boy, she had never been anyone’s boyfriend for more than a month or two.

She got out of bed. There was just enough grey light in the room for her to be able to see her reflection in the mirror. The hair on her head had grown a little. She ran her fingers through it. Perhaps she would grow it out, maybe a bob to start with, or at least a bowl cut? As she was a ‘she’ now, it was something she would have to think about. That was a lot of ‘she’.

Jack leaned in and looked closely at her sandy roots. She had heard that, as she got older, her blond hair would slowly turn to a light auburn, before going grey. It felt unfair to her. Society had chosen to make being blond a big part of her personality and then nature would take it away.

Just before she left the room she stopped herself. She was wearing only her underpants and a vest. There was a teenage boy sleeping on the sofa and as a woman now she had to think about these things. After a little search she found an old T-shirt of Isaac’s. It mentioned someplace called ‘Hogwarts.’ Apparently, it was some sort of school. The T-shirt came down lower on her thighs than the skirt she had worn the night before. It could have been a dress.

She closed the door as slowly and quietly as she could, feeling a pang of separation as Isaac’s face disappeared from view. “Get a hold of yourself girl,” she thought standing in the hall, her head spinning from more than just the booze. “You are going loopy.”

Isaac’s flat was only small, containing one bedroom, a bathroom, hall and a living room/kitchen. She tiptoed into the kitchen area. Ben was still asleep on the sofa. The duvet he was under was half out of its cover and, on top of his chest, his black and white cat slept as well. The boy had collapsed as soon as they had got him in the flat last night. He hadn’t made much sense in the taxi either. Mostly he was mumbling something about a forest and a Witch with many faces?

At first she had thought it was some sort of pop culture reference that had passed her by while she was missing, but Isaac had no idea either.

Isaac’s coffee maker was large, red and chrome. She didn’t think she could manage it. Especially not in her state. As quietly as possible she opened the cupboards looking for tea. Tea would be better anyway. To her, coffee was like junk food and tea was like a lovingly cooked roast. She was feeling in a ‘home’ mood.

She jumped with surprise when Ben suddenly turned over. Jess the cat was forced to jump on the floor and didn’t look pleased about it. Ben had a hand sticking out from under the cover. Jess walked up and licked a finger before curling up next to him and purring softly. She remembered the boy whispering to the cat on the way home. She hoped he was alright?

Ben didn’t seem like he was going to be waking up soon, so she picked up Isaac’s laptop and took it over to the big armchair. It was one of those chairs that swivel and Jack suspected Isaac had bought it from some second hand office supply place. The chair was positioned so its back was to the door and it faced the sofa. She curled her legs underneath her and sipped her tea taking a few moments before opening the laptop.

Isaac said the laptop was old and worn out, but it looked amazingly thin and futuristic to her. She found the radio station Isaac had told her about and put it on low. A female Welsh voice introduced an old blues song and Jack relaxed. Outside the window a car drove past. Apart from that it was as quiet as any other Sunday.

She had been sitting there just staring and sipping tea for more than half an hour when two hands slipped over her eyes.

“Shhh,” came Isaac’s voice, “Don’t wake the boy.”

Isaac held out his arms to her, pulling her out of the chair and into his arms. She squeezed up against his hard body. She shivered in pleasure and a little trepidation as he put his hands on her bum.

“How about we go back to bed for a bit?” he looked towards Ben, “He’ll probably be asleep for the rest of the day, the poor kid.”

She bit her lip; did women really do that? Only if they wanted a coldsore. Without her notebook, she had no other way to express her mix of uncertainty and excitement. Isaac took her hand and moved towards the door. She watched him closely as he did so, staying still. When their arms were as stretched as they could comfortably be, Isaac tugged causing her to stumble forwards. Without making a noise she followed behind him.

They had had sex the night before, but that was under the influence of alcohol. It had been physical and without thinking. Now Jack’s mind raced with thoughts and anxiety.

There was something in her head that was stopping her telling people about her change of gender. She wished she could tell him now and explain why she was so nervous. He took her in his arms and gently kissed her on the lips. It felt strange having to lean upwards, as a boy he’d always been tall. Even now he was 5 foot 10, tall for a girl. He estimated Isaac must be at least 6 foot.

She could still feel where Isaac had touched her the night before. It scared her how much she craved to feel him again. At least he didn’t have a ‘dick’ being transgender. Jack wasn’t ready to deal with that, although she had spotted something tucked away at the bottom of one of the drawers. She was frightened Isaac would want to experiment with it. “Not now,” she thought firmly. Today touching would have to be enough.

Slowly but surely, she let herself be led to the bed.

An hour or more later, they lay in each other’s arms. Jack’s body felt strange, but not in a bad way. It was like someone had shot electricity through her, she could hardly lie still.

“I think I hear movement,” Isaac said. Jack looked at the wall dividing the bedroom from the living room. She hoped they had been quiet enough? “I am going to pee,” Isaac followed up. Thanks for the newsflash fella.

She watched him leave the bedroom wishing they could have stayed in bed all day. Even the hangover was worth it. She was tempted to go back to sleep but curiosity about Ben stopped her.

She crawled to the edge of the bed and looked at herself in the mirror, this time with the light on. She turned her head from side to side then, with her fingers, traced the contours of her skull. How strange it was to live inside this thing she thought. Which part was her, was it the thing inside or was it the body on the outside? If they are all the same then what did that mean, was she a different person as a he?

After showering, she dressed in the bathroom, not wanting to wander around the flat half naked with Ben there. She wore the skirt and tights from the night before with Isaac’s Smiths' T-shirt over the top (At least she knew who they were). When she entered the living room, both Isaac and Ben were sitting on the sofa talking. Isaac’s voice was calm but they were obviously talking very seriously.

“He says the cat told him to find you. She knew where you would be,” Isaac indicated Jess who was licking her paws.

She looked uncertain. Even with everything else, talking cats sounded pretty mad; perhaps they should take Ben to the hospital?

“Can’t you hear her?” Ben asked. She looked at him. Despite what he was saying his voice sounded calm, if a little tired. She shook her head ‘no’.

Ben looked at the cat again then turned back to her, “Jess says you should be able to. You just need to learn how.”

Isaac must have been able to sense her uncertainty as he spoke next, “Jack, Ben says Jess told him about the Brownies, and that they are the ones who killed his dad.”

She looked at the boy. How could he know? She hadn’t told anyone except Isaac.

Ben got up, moving closer to her. He looked upset, “I, I, don’t know why they killed him,” he let out a great big sob. “He didn’t do anything wrong. Apparently, they are angry about something moving, but I am not sure what?” His eyes were full of tears.

She could remember that feeling of being completely alone, although she still couldn’t remember why or where she had been. She thought how unfair it was that she had regained a mum, but Ben had lost a dad out of whatever this madness was.

Seeing a tear running down his chin, she put her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. For a moment he just stood there and she worried she had done the wrong thing then he started shaking, letting out silent sobs.

They hugged for a good ten minutes. After the first few minutes, Jack realised she was crying as well. Eventually they had to part, Ben rubbing his now red eyes. The emotion had been overwhelming for her. Her body felt like it had been through three rounds in the ring.

“Thanks,” mumbled Ben. Jack had to turn around so he wouldn’t see her cry again.

After composing herself she left the ‘boys’ talking in the living area. She wanted a little space so she busied herself in the kitchen making tea and looking for something for them to eat. She found bread, eggs and a frying pan. After ten minutes or so she returned to find them both holding handsets and sitting in front of the TV.

“Call of Duty,” Isaac told her in way of an explanation. She just nodded, smiling at how well they were getting on. She almost caught herself thinking of what a great dad Isaac would make before stopping herself. Remember what The Supremes taught you, you can’t hurry… he thoughts trailed off as she put a mug of sweet tea next to each of them and a plate of fried egg sandwiches in between them.

After returning with her own tea, she sat down on the floor next to Isaac. In the flat next door she could hear a group of kids running around playing a game. She laid her head on Isaac’s shoulder and silently watched them play their game.

---

Wren was nervous as she opened the front door.

“Thanks for coming,” she stammered, not sure what mood Tom would be in.

“You said it was urgent?” Tom looked worried. Wren felt good knowing he was worried for her.

“I don’t know if you’ll believe this,” she ran a hand through her hair, “I am not sure I believe it myself, but I think this bird is trying to communicate with me.”

Tom looked at her, she wondered what he must be thinking. “You'd better show me,” he said simply.

Wren led him through to the living room where the robin was now perched on the mantelpiece. When they entered the room it took flight, fluttering around the ceiling before landing back where it had been. As Tom came close to the robin it hopped from leg to leg excitedly.

“Ask it something, anything,” Wren suggested.

Tom shrugged, “What did I have for breakfast?”

The bird cocked its head as if to suggest that was a stupid question.

“No, more like why it is here,” Wren explained.

Tom nodded, “What do you want to tell us?” He looked at Wren for reassurance, she just shrugged.

The bird jumped off its perch and flew to the floor. It began to do a little dance, making a circle of eight, occasionally stopping to shake its tail feathers.

“Perhaps someone trained it to do tricks?” Tom kept his eyes on the bird as it shook around.

“Strange sort of trick, and how do you train a bird to understand human words?”

“We train dogs, I suppose it isn’t much difference.”

Without any warning the little bird flew up and began flapping its wings in Tom’s face. “What the hell is it do…” Were all the words Tom got out before he, and the bird disappeared.

Wren let out a shout of shock. “Come back!” she shouted, but there was nothing. Wren looked franticly around the room, as if expecting them to reappear and shout surprise.

She stood there listening to her heart beating away. Tom was gone, and it was her fault. She sat in a chair, afraid to move. Slowly the day outside turned into evening, and then into night. She heard her neighbours on the street returning from work and a TV turning on next door. Eventually, when she was ready to give up she heard a popping sound and the bird reappeared.

“You little bastard, what have you done with Tom!” she exclaimed. The bird started flapping its wings in her face. “Hey, no, what are you…” she was silenced and the whole world turned black.

There were a few blissful moments before she woke fully. Every part of her body ached, and it felt as if she has been tossed off of a very tall building and that there was still part of her falling.

“Urrrgh,” she groaned. Somewhere nearby, she could sense movement.

“You are finally awake. I thought you were going to be sleeping through the night.” The voice was accompanied by a ringing in her ears. Opening her eyes, she could see stars in a clear sky. There were more stars than she could ever remember seeing before.

“I don’t know where we are.” She recognised the voice as Tom’s. “I tried climbing a tree.” Wren turned her head slightly to see where Tom was pointing, “but I didn’t see any buildings or roads.

Wren pulled herself up in to a sitting position. “We must be miles from any city, judging by how clearly we can see the stars,” she muttered. Looking around, she could now see they were in a small clearing in a forest somewhere. It didn’t give her much information. She could see Tom sitting on a fallen tree warming his hands around a little fire.

Slowly and painfully, she picked herself up and went to sit next to him. As she sat, he took off his coat and placed it over her shoulders.

“No,” she protested, “you’ll get cold.”

“I’ve been in front of this fire for hours, you look frozen.”

It was only then that Wren realised just how could she was. She was wearing a sweater and a cardigan but had not put a coat on.

“Where did you go for all that time?” She asked.

“I was here, although I have no idea where we are,” Tom turned and smiled at her. He returned his attention to the fire poking it with a stick. Embers floated out of the fire, illuminating his face.

“Why do you think it brought us here?” Tom asked.

“I don’t know, but I get the feeling it wants to show us something.”

That night they slept under the stars, huddled together for warmth. In the morning Wren woke to find the fire had gone out and someone had come to join them.

The deer reminded her of childhood visits to Tatton Park. She watched as it sniffed around the little campsite, seemingly unafraid of we humans.

Tom was still asleep and Wren kept herself as still as possible, not wanting to scare it away. Her breathing was shallow and the cold air felt sharp in her lungs. The moment didn’t last however. A noise somewhere deep in the forest startled the deer and it ran away.

They decided to keep on the move if only for their own sanity. Tom had spotted higher ground nearby and they hoped to get a better idea of their location from there.

About half an hour into their journey, Wren pointed upwards. “Look, in the trees.”

Tom looked but didn’t seem to see what she had seen.

“Can’t you see them in the branches,” she pointed towards a flock of bright green birds. “Parrots I think. I’ve seen them in trees in London before, just not this far north or in those numbers.”

“How would parrots get to England?”

“They are the descendants of domesticated birds that escaped. Apparently they do quite well.”

It was past midmorning when they finally reached the top of the hill. Wren’s stomach groaned from lack of food. Why couldn’t the robin have warned them to bring some with them?

They both stood seeing the same thing. In the distance, in what Wren assumed from the position of the sun was south, were a number of skeletal shapes taller than anything else in the landscape.

“Are they alien?” Tom asked.

“Maybe.” Wren was uncertain and she had a bad feeling. “They look like the bones of buildings.”

Tom shook his head seeming to not understand.

“I think we are looking at Manchester,” Wren heaved a sigh, “Or at least what used to be Manchester.”

---

Jack had spent most of the day cleaning the flat. She didn’t quite know why, just that it was something to do and it made her feel useful. Isaac was out on a shift and Ben seemed self-contained playing computer games. She didn’t like disturbing him.

At lunchtime, she made them both sandwiches and sat on the floor watching Ben play. The improvement in the graphics was amazing.

‘Why do you keep talking to the characters?’ she wrote on a piece of paper.

Ben flicked down his mic, “I am playing with some guys in Copenhagen,”

Denmark? Jack didn’t quite believe it. She took a bite of her sandwich mulling the idea around in her head. She picked up the case the game came in and read the back. Would she have been into this if she had never disappeared? She would have been nearly forty and male. Do thirty or forty something guys still play computer games?

It had gone dark outside and Jack was mopping the bathroom floor when Isaac came in. She heard the door close and the jingle as he dropped his keys in the little dish he kept on a small table next to the coats.

Isaac came into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bath. “We need to go see your mother,” Isaac said. Jack nodded. “We need to let her know what is going on.” Again Jack nodded, she watched his reflection in the mirror. Isaac got up and put his hand on her hips. He pulled her close and kissed her neck, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation.

“Is that OK?” Isaac asked. Jack nodded in agreement. “We don’t mention Ben though.” Jack shook her head, all the while looking at him in the mirror and feeling his body against her. Isaac took her by the hand and led her into the living room where Ben was still playing his game.

“Ben.” Ben turned to look at them. Jess was sitting in his lap, “We are going out for a couple of hours. Jack needs to get some things from her mum’s.”

It was true. Jack needed something other than her short skirt and Isaac’s old t-shirts to wear.

“We’ll pick up some takeaway on the way back. Is that OK?”

Jack watched as Ben bent down so Jess’ mouth was close to his ear. After a few moments he looked up, “Sure.” He smiled.

“Indian Okay?”

Ben gave the thumbs up.

---

You could see bits of old pavement and road here and there. Much of the terrain was uneven, red bricks showing through tree roots and grasses.

“I think this used to be the Northern Quarter,” Wren said. Looking up at what was left of a brick wall, the colour of the faded graffiti contrasted against the green of the plant life that grew there.

“What are those?” Tom pointed in the distance to what looked like tree tops rising above the mounds of rubble.

“Trees?” Wren shrugged.

“They are bigger than any trees I’ve ever seen, you could live in one of them.”

It took them a good half an hour to reach them, their progress hampered by tree roots and rubble.

“I wonder how long it has been since,” Wren tried to find the words, “whatever happened, happened.” She finished a little lamely.

“At least several decades, maybe fifty years or more?” Tom mused.

They had reached the first of the large trees. Wren had seen pictures of the great trees that grew in places like California and western Canada. These put them to shame. The closest tree was at least the height of a three or four story building. Several of the trees behind it were even taller.

“Look at that,” Tom pointed.

“What am I looking at?” Wren shrugged.

“There’s a face.”

Wren squinted, it took her a while but she finally saw it.

“Has someone carved it?”

“There’s another over here,” Wren turned to see that Tom had moved on to the next tree. They spend twenty or so minutes wondering around the strange forest examining as many trees as possible, each one had a face, usually high in its branches.

“This is nuts,” Wren stopped for a moment, “excuse the pun. Who has done this? Who would carve faces on all the trees in this forest?”

“I don’t think they are carved,” Tom said slowly, “They have bark growing over them. If they were carved that would be impossible.”

Wren shivered. At first she had thought the forest was beautiful, now she was scared. “How far back do you think it goes?”

“I don’t know, but we could find out of we climbed that.”

Wren looked where he was pointing. Through the tops of the trees she could see a bare concrete structure, the top half was bigger than the bottom. “That’s the Beetham Tower, or what’s left of it. I read once that concrete structures will be the last ones to collapse, after human civilisation is over that is. Apparently there are still concrete structures standing from Roman times.”

“They had concrete back then?”

“That’s what they say.”

The climb was a difficult one. There was a stairway that had survived in the middle of the structure, but without glass in most of the windows there was little escape from the wind.

By the time they had reached near the top, it was already getting dark.

“I think we should stop here,” Tom said out of breath.

“Why? There are only a few more floors to go?” Wren thought there might be about ten.

“The light is going. We need to find shelter and start a fire. This floor looks good.”

Wren had to admit the light was going, and she didn’t fancy climbing up or down in this weather.

In one of the corners, most of the wall had survived. There were also sheets of metal and broken bricks that could be pulled together to create a windbreak.

While Tom worked on the shelter, Wren looked for things to burn. After rummaging around on the closest two floors, she found an old chair. It was broken into pieces but seemed dry enough to burn. She stopped a while and looked over the edge. The tops of some of the tallest trees were only a few metres below. The wind blew through the branches causing them to shake. The sound freaked her out, reminding her of whispering. She turned, determined to find Tom.

It took them a good hour to finish their little home for the night. Wren huddled close to the fire trying to get warm while Tom took a burning chair leg to search for more fuel. As she sat there quietly, she noticed something, little black birds? Swooping in the dim light. It took her a moment to work out what they were. Little bats chasing flies and other insects.

She wanted to call to Tom to come and see, but didn’t dare in case it scared them away. It was amazing. How often would you get the chance to see something like this?

“Wren!” Tom’s voice rang out. She wanted to shush him so he wouldn’t scare the bats away. “Wren, come see this!”

Slowly, sad to be moving away from the bats and the fire, Wren got up. There was little light to see by inside the structure so she had to move carefully following Tom’s voice. When she found him he was standing near the edge looking out.

“What is it?” She hissed, not knowing why she was keeping her voice down.

“Come look,” he pointed outward.

She was scared to get close to the edge, not trusting herself not to slip. When she did reach him he took her in his arm.

“Look,” he said, “A light.”

She had to squint her eyes but she saw it off somewhere to the north, in the hills “Another fire?”

“No, it doesn’t flicker. It must be electric.”

Wren thought for a moment, “Bugger, that’s all the way back where we came from.”

---

The grey light came in through window, waking Ash. He turned over on his front to try and escape it but the feel of his breasts squashed against the bedding made him groan. It reminded him of his situation.

There was a soft knock on the bedroom door. Despite how quiet it sounded it still made Ash jump. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, using his hands to flatten down his ridiculously lacy nighty.

“Come in,” he said, his voice reedy and thin.

“Excuse me ma’am,” a small, plump maid entered the room backwards. She was using the side of her arm to push the door open while holding a tray with both hands. Ash’s first thought was to try and help her, but he knew only too well not to. Over the last week he’d cause three maids to drop various trays and bowls with his attempts at chivalry.

The maid placed the tray on his lap, he felt odd being treated like an invalid or a child. “Thank you Dolly,” Ash mumbled, again hating the sound of his new voice.

“I’ll be back in half an hour ma’am, with your clothes,” Ash sighed, what mad dress were they going to make him wear today?

Dolly mistook the general cloud of discontent around Ash as the will of a fashionable young woman. “I’m sorry ma’am, I know that the Lady Godwinson’s old dresses aren’t exactly fashionable. Not for a pretty young lady such as yourself. But sir has sent away for some more appropriate things.”

Ash made a huffing noise, indicating that he didn’t think much of the idea. After Dolly had gone, Ash was left nibbling on toast and contemplating the dress she had gone to fetch.

He wished they would leave him alone and let him spend the day in bed. The first few days he had been full of energy, fighting the clothes they put him in, trying to leave. After that proved fruitless he had calmed down, playing along while expecting the prank to be revealed at any time. Only now he was losing hope.

He watched as Dolly and two other girls came in carrying the clothes they expected him to wear. “I told the young sir that you were feeling down having to wear his mothers old things,” she explained while he eyed the corset/torture implement she was going to expect him to wear. “He suggested a trip into Manchester,” Dolly beamed, for all the world looking like she had just told him they were going to Alton Towers.

When Ash didn’t say anything Dolly continued, “So I thought we’d go for something practical.”

Ash eyed the bamboo cage that was designed to hold his dress out. He didn’t think the word ‘practical’ was an accurate description.

No wonder so many women faint in those old books, Ash thought as Dolly tied the corset closed. He dared not look down at the cleavage it created. A small girl with mousy brown hair came in.

“Please ma’am, the master is waiting downstairs with the cart. He says we have to hurry if we are to catch the train into Manchester.” Dolly made some disgruntled noises and the mousy girl ran off.

“Come on Miss Ashley, we better get the dress on you.”

Ash looked down at the bloomers he was wearing and the strange bell like structure tied around his high waist. He didn’t want to miss the trip. It would be his first chance to see the world around him. To test how far the illusion stretched. Surely they couldn’t have created a fake Manchester, could they?

Edward Godwinson was waiting as she came out of the house. Ash felt stupid, not only had they insisted on the damn dress but Heather had tied a stupid bonnet onto his head. He felt even more stupid as Edward helped him up into the little carriage.

“I thought we’d take the train in,” he said as if it was some major treat. “Train?” thought Ash, “how far does this prank go?”

They arrived at a small country station and Edward handed him down from the carriage, taking care that the wide crinoline didn't catch in the door. Unable to see his feet, Ash was convinced he’d go flying at any moment. There was a well-appointed waiting room for first class passengers (second and third classes were forced to wait in the cold on the platform) but there was only a short wait before a whistle and a plume of smoke and steam heralded the arrival of the train.

There was a squeal of brakes and a hiss of escaping steam as the locomotive drew to halt. He couldn’t help but stare down at the steel wheels. There was nothing separating their deadly inhuman strength and his fragile new body. He felt faint, almost as if he was drawn to them but, without asking, Edward took his arm. Once again Edward helped Ash to manoeuvre his voluminous skirts into a First Class compartment. There was a blast on the whistle and the wave of a green flag from the guard before the train drew slowly away from the platform. Ash could feel it’s great mechanical strength pulling him forward.

The journey was a slow one, mainly involving Ash sitting and listening to Edward as he talked about his desire to travel. Mostly it was the usual tedium people talk about when they are on a long journey with someone they don’t know well. The one time he did brighten up was when Ash got him on to his favourite subject; biology.

From what Ash could make out, Edward was quite knowledgeable in the subject.

“Did you go to university?” Ash asked.

“I did, Oxford.” Edward replied.

“I’ve always wanted to go to university but I'm not sure what I would study,” Ash said as they relaxed in their seats.

“University?” Edward laughed openly, “What would a pretty girl like you be doing at university? Or any girl for that matter!”

Ash crossed his arms. They were really taking this whole ‘realistic’ thing too far.

They got out at a station Ash didn’t recognise. It was full of hundreds of people. Ash’s spirits sank. There was no way anyone could afforded a prank this elaborate.

Edward offered him his arm. Feeling rather overwhelmed by everything Ash took it gratefully.

“So, where shall we try first?”

Ash recognised the streets, but only from their shape. The building looked different. Perhaps they were, or maybe it was just that they were newer and lacking in much decoration like adverts. Of course the shop fronts were different but above ground level, from the first floor and up, there was some similarity to the streets Ash knew.

Near the top end of Deensgate, a middle-aged woman in a shawl stepped out in front of them.

“Lucky heather for the lady?” she asked.

Edward tried to brush past her but the woman caught Ash’s eye. She was tall with silver hair and a strong jaw line.

“What’s your name?” Ash asked at a loss for something to say.

“Jennet ma’am,” Jennet gave a little curtsy then turned to Edward again. “Are you interested in the latest broadside sir?”

“No,” Edward said sternly, “we are not interested in drinking songs.” He began to push past her.

When they were nearly past her Jennet reached out and grasped Ash’s arm. Ash tried to pull away but the woman’s grip was too firm. Edward hadn’t noticed and was already a few paces ahead of Ash. The woman pulled him close and whispered in his ear.

“I see the mark on you,” she hissed, “Be careful miss, they will be looking for you.”

Before Ash could ask a question, the woman had disappeared into the crowd and Edward was beside him. The rest of the afternoon passed in an embarrassed daze. Edward insisted on dragging him around several dressmakers, each of which prodded and poked him as they took his measurements.

The girls in the shops scurried around Ash, trying different things. While they were doing that, Edward spoke to the men, explaining what he wanted. Ash felt like a child, his opinion ignored as irrelevant.

---

Despite the thickness of his coat, Jack could feel Isaac’s arm rubbing against his as they walked. Every step was a mix of pleasure and befuddlement. Did she want Isaac to put his arm around her? It seemed so twee but she couldn’t shake off a sense of annoyance at the lack of touching. She wanted her skin against his. She loved the contrasts, his dark skin, hers pale, his hard muscles, her soft body
Her head came out of the fuzziness suddenly when she realised Isaac had been saying something.

“Do you want me to come in with you?”

Jack looked around. “Shit,” she thought. They were there. She shook her head taking his hand, kissing it through the thick woollen gloves. She went to reach for her notebook but Isaac waved his hand, gesturing her not to bother.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, “I’ll wait here.” Then he gently kissed her on the forehead. From someone else she might have considered the kiss condescending, but she felt pleased he could understand her without the need for her to speak.

She let go of his hand and made her way to the front door. She couldn’t help turning to see what Isaac was doing. Something in her just needed to know he hadn’t gone away.

The doorbell rang and Jack could see the ghostly shape of her mother coming up the corridor towards her. She thought of how her mother had died when she was a boy, and how ‘he’ would have done anything to see her again. Had there been something about her being a girl that had saved her mum?

“Hello dear, how was the party,” Jenny looked around Jack seeing Isaac standing there looking sheepish, “Did you have fun?”

Jack nodded and got out her notebook.

‘Yes, can we talk inside?’

Jenny looked back at Isaac and silently nodded in agreement.

She sat down on the sofa, only too aware of how short her skirt was. She could feel her mum watching her adjust the hemline.

“I suspect you could do with some clean clothes?” Jenny said shrewdly. Jack took out her notebook.

‘Yes. Mum, I need to tell you something.’

Jack had the notebook out, flat on the coffee table. Jenny watched her as she wrote.

‘I want to go stay with Isaac for a bit.’ Jack stopped as she could feel Jenny reading over her shoulder, ‘Is that OK?’

Her mum put her hand over hers, “If that’s what you need dear,” there was a long pause, Jack felt Jenny’s hand tightening on her own, “There’s something else isn’t there?” Her voice was low and quiet, as if they were trying to have a private conversation in a public place. Again Jack nodded.

‘In the time before I went missing,’ he tried to write ‘I was a boy,’ but wasn’t surprised when his hand wouldn’t let him, ‘I remember you dying.’

Jenny let out a little gasp of shock, pulling her hand away from her daughters.

“You poor thing. What happened? No, don’t tell me. Being here must bring it all back.”

‘Yes, it does,’ Jack wrote, ‘You are taking this very well?’

“I knew you were from a different dimension from the moment I saw you in that bed.”

Jack just looked at her.

“Oh a mother knows,” she placed her hand back over Jack’s, “Just little things. You are so similar to my little girl, but also different…” her voice trailed off.

They invited Isaac into the house and he sat politely on the sofa drinking hot sweet tea while Jenny helped Jack pack upstairs.

“You might need these,” Jenny placed a yellow cagoule and green woolly hat on the bed. Jack smiled in agreement. She didn’t plan spending much time outside of Jack’s flat, but she knew to let her mother fuss over her.

“Yellow suits you,” Jenny brushed Jack’s cheek, “My golden child.” Jack looked away embarrassed. She already felt close to tears.

I took just over half an hour in total. When Jack came down the stairs, she was wearing the cagoule and hat Jenny had given her. She also carried a large rucksack that seemed comically too big for her slender frame.

“Let me help with…” Isaac began before Jack waved him silent. She didn’t want to be though of as the victim anymore.

Jenny placed a hand on Isaac’s arm, “Isaac dear, would you mind giving us a moment.”

“Of course,” Isaac looked at Jack. She was unsure but she nodded in agreement.

After he had left the room Jenny came close and hugged her close. A hard thing to do with the huge rucksack on her back.

“Just one bit of advice,” Jenny looked towards the door where Isaac had just exited. Jack waited a moment before Jenny leaned in close, “Beware of the shaman.”

Jenny released Jack and shooed her towards the door. Jack was in shock, what did that mean? Was ‘the shaman’ some weird old person’s racism she didn’t know about? She remembered her mother scolding her Nan for being racist back when she was little, but that was the mum from a different dimension.

They hugged on the doorstep, Jack feeling awkward. Then she was alone with Isaac, the snow beginning to fall again.

“So, fancy something spicy and hot?” Isaac smiled. Jack hugged him realising she was laughing and crying at the same time.

---

Jenny didn’t need to turn around, “You can come out now. I know you’re watching everything.”

“You just let her go with him?” said the first Brownie.

“She’ll be back,” Jenny let out a sigh.

“She better had be, old woman,” spat the second.

“I told you I’m not that old,” Jenny still didn’t turn around. She didn’t have the strength, “I am barely 414.”

“But when she comes back you’ll do it,” the first one said. Jenny thought it was strange to hear such coldness and calculation in the voice that, otherwise, sounded like a little girl. She could remember leaving Jack at primary school when she was little. She remembered the feeling of panic as she scanned the faces of the little girls, wondering who had it in them to be cruel to her precious daughter.

“Before I say yes will you answer me two questions?”

“She already said she would do it, why is she asking us more questions,” the second Brownie sounded annoyed.

“Just ask your questions,” The first one interrupted.

“Firstly, is it true. Is my Jackie somewhere else, somewhere safe?” Jenny took a deep breath and clenched her fists.

“Yes,”

“And if I do this thing for you, you’ll bring her back to me?”

“Yes,”

Jenny let all the air out of her lungs, she had to hold on to a chair to stop herself from toppling over.

“But don’t try and double cross us,” piped up the second brownie, “We know you of old Jennet Device.”

---

It was late. Ben was asleep on the sofa after hours of playing some game called Grand Theft Auto with Isaac. Jack had found a blanket and placed it over the boy. She was aware she was only playing house with Isaac and Ben, and that the game couldn’t last forever. Still, it was hard not to feel a little maternal towards Ben.

How old was Ben? Jack caught sight of something crumpled on the floor. She picked it up realising it was a worn photo with three people in it, a man, a woman and a small child. It was easy to see the child was Ben, that wide grin was unmistakable. The man and woman she guessed were his parents, the poor mite.

Something caught her eye, as she recognised the woman’s face. It took a moment for all the pieces to fit back in to place. They had been at school together, back in the day. She was in the year above, used to go out with a sixth former and used to be really into Pulp and Blur. Why couldn’t she remember her name?

For a moment she wanted to wake Ben and tell him about their connection, but she stopped herself. How was she going to explain to Ben that she, who looked about twenty, had been to school with his mum. She placed the photo carefully back in his hand. She would find a way to explain tomorrow. Perhaps she even had photos back at her mum’s?

“Hey, what are you up to?”

She turned around to see Isaac framed in the doorway. Jack just shrugged not wanting to explain. Isaac came over and pulled her up, taking her over to the arm chair. He sat down and she sat on his lap. As he held her the radio played quietly in the back ground. There was some band she had never heard of playing live. It reminded her of staying up late and listening to John Peel and the others under her bed covers. She wondered if that was still a thing that had happened now that she was a girl.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Isaac’s voice brought her back to the present. Jack nodded.

“How are you handling my whole ‘transgender’ thing?” he asked, his voice soft and low.

She wanted to say that it was perfect for her, that she knew what it was like. She wanted to explain that it was strange to her, but that she wanted to understand. She wanted to say and ask many things, but she didn’t have her notebook close at hand, and she didn’t want to move from where she was. What she did do was run her finger along his cheek feeling the day’s worth of stubble growing there. She leaned in and kissed him.

Slowly Isaac stood up holding her in his arms. Jack kicked her legs playing at struggling against him as he carried her from the room. As she ran her fingers through his hair, she wondered what her mother had meant when she had said ‘beware the shaman’? Had she meant Isaac? When she got her notebook back, she would have to ask Isaac if he knew what she could have meant.

Isaac half tossed, half placed Jack on the bed. Questions would have to wait till later. Much later.

Unseen People

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

Jack gets a new job, a costume, a hat and a new friend

Thanks to Robin, Chris and Jess for all their help and to everyone who reads and reviews! A special thanks to Brooke Erickson who's comment on an early chapter has led to a big plot point in this chapter.

Chapter 6

Jack adjusted the fake plastic ears before placing the silly hat on her head. Sighing, she looked herself up and down in the staff changing room mirror. She took in the red dress, with its short skirt trimmed with a white fluffy hem. She thought she had done a good job picking the yellow tights, it made her feel less of a corporate drone, even if the gesture at individuality was largely illusory. As she put the finishing touches to her makeup, she thought of Isaac and Ben. For them, she was going to be the perfect little Santa’s helper.

Leaving the changing room, she found herself slipping on the floor. The pointed shoes she had been given had very little grip. It took her a while to get used to them but eventually she joined her fellow elves in standing around aimlessly. There were five of them in total, two girls who looked like they had just graduated school, both more concerned with their phones, a woman in her twenties who smiled sheepishly at Jack and another woman, probably in her early thirties, who had her arms crossed in resigned detachment.

“OK everyone,” a male voice with a southern accent called out. Jack turned to see a man with a smooth, almost sponge-like face walking towards them. The suit he wore looked expensive, but it had become frayed at the edges with age.

“So I see a few new faces this year, and one regular,” he looked towards the thirty something woman, “nice to have you back again Sandra,” he turned to the two youngest, “And you too Shelly and Lisa.”

Sandra nodded but said nothing. Shelly and Lisa barely looked up from their phones.

“If you don’t know me, I’m David, most people call me Dave. If you do know me then you’ll know to watch out,” he surveyed the watching women seeming to expect a reaction but nobody moved.

“The Job Centre tells me there’s one girl here who can’t speak?” He looked around the others. Jack gingerly held up her hand. She already felt out of place being a good couple of inches taller then all the other women.

“OK, well look at you. Tall and gangly, like a sexy spider,” he smirked at his own joke. Without any one saying anything the mood changed in the room. All the women were united. This guy was a dick.

“It’s Jacqueline isn’t it?”

Jack nodded, unconsciously she folded her arms.

“I’m going to put you with Claire,” Jack looked around to see the other twenty something give her a little wave, “You’ll both be handing out leaflets with Mr Bubbles near the Greggs. That means the rest of you will be with Santa in the grotto.”

The remaining women gave audible groans at the prospect.

“Have you checked he’s not stored any booze around the grotto this year?” Sandra spoke firmly.

Deep lines appeared on the manager’s forehead, “We’ll do a quick check before we open.”

The Middleton Arndale Shopping Centre wasn’t large. Most of the shops were the standard chains, W H Smiths, Greggs, and an empty space where HMV used to be. Claire and Jack were stationed near the stairs that led up to a coffee shop, handing out leaflets for Mr Bubbles.

Mr Bubbles was the hired children’s entertainer. He could do truly wonderful things with bubbles, but found it difficult dealing with actual kids. He was thin apart from a little belly covered by a colourful waistcoat. He had white hair and beard that were cut short but somehow still looked unkempt. He smiled and his eyes twinkled except that, when he didn’t think anyone was looking, his expression became tired and resentful.

“He’s not so bad,” Claire whispered in her ear, “He just gets a little tired and frustrated when the kids are being loud and running around.”

She could sympathise but thought that having noisy kids running around you was a big part of Mr Bubbles’ job description.

At first she was worried that not being able to speak would be a major problem, but she soon discovered that the kids weren’t really bothered. Some of the parents looked a little puzzled at first until Jack showed them his note explaining. A few of the dads would express sympathy while staring at her legs.

After a while, they slipped into an easy groove. Claire greeted and directed the kids to Mr Bubbles, who seemed happy totally focused on his work. Jack dished out sweets to the kids while handing their parents promotional material.

She was glad the mall was so busy as it kept her from thinking. She barely had time to look up at the clock before Shelly and Lisa came over to give them their break. Claire took them to the open plan coffee shop on the top floor where they shared a stale Danish.

“So, this is your first time as well?” Claire asked over the din of the shoppers.

Jack nodded as she watched two boys being led by their mother towards the toilets, their hands sticky from eating the lollies Jack had given them less than half an hour before.

The coffee shop was situated on an open balcony above the lower section. The noise from all the shoppers below rose up into the roof creating a kind of noise soup. It reminded Jack of the swimming baths.

A memory flashed through her head. She was shivering, standing in a row with the other girls as they waited for the boys to take their turns diving in. The water had made her swimming costume stick up her bum uncomfortably. It had probably been too short due to a growth spurt. Jack shook her head. This wasn’t her memory…

“What made you sign up to be an elf?” said Claire. As if to emphasise the point, she gave the bobble on top of Jack’s hat a little punt, making it swing about.

Jack took out her notebook from the little shoulder bag they let her have.

‘Xmas,’ she wrote.

“Presents to buy, huh?”

Jack nodded and took a sip of her coffee.

“We are saving up. We want to travel to Thailand and Vietnam.” Claire chatted excitedly about her and her boyfriend’s plans to see the world while Jack sat with her legs crossed, sipping sweet coffee. It felt good to be included as one of the girls. While she was with Isaac or amongst friends, she was fine but being alone in public, she half expected people to start pointing at her and shouting.

Another memory popped into her head. This time she was sitting at the back of a class room in primary school watching Angela Jennings talk to Sandra Coburn. She was upset because Angela was supposed to be her friend but had abandoned her for Sandra. She could feel the pain acutely, but again this wasn’t her memory.

The noise of the coffee shop came back and Jack shook her head. What was happening to her? Was she a real girl or was she just wishing it so?

About a week before, she had gone to use the toilet while shopping in ASDA. It had felt like she was having a heart attack. She’d rushed into a little stall and sat there for what felt like hours unable to go. Every time the door opened, she had half expected it to be a security guard sent to fetch the impostor.

Claire didn’t seem to care though, she just saw Jack as a fellow twenty something trying to make it through the day. It felt like bliss to Jack. If only she could have made it last forever.

As the end of their break came closer a man strutted up to their table.

“What are you two doing this far south?” he leered at them. Jack could smell stale booze on his breath.

“Bringing Christmas cheer,” Claire words were warm but the look she gave Jack was uneasy.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” The man spread his arms open, as if she was being unreasonable, “I’m just being festive.”

“Look mate, we’ve got to get back to work. We don’t need any hassle,” Claire’s voice was showing her tiredness.

“What hassle?” he spoke as if Claire had impugned his reputation. “Anyway, Blondie here doesn’t mind, do you love?”

With a sinking heart Jack realised he’d turned his attention to her. All she could do was roll his eyes at him.

Clearly feeling he’d made some headway the man continued, “She’s a quiet one, isn’t she.” His smile showed a tooth missing.

Claire jumped to her defence, “She can’t speak. She was in an accident.”

“Oh love,” the man took advantage of the moment to touch Jack on the arm, “I’m sorry to hear that. What was it, a car accident.”

Jack took out her note pad and wrote something down. She hated having the man’s face so close to her own as he leaned down to read what she had written. ‘No, I kicked some pervert so hard in his balls it caused my vocal cords to snap.’

The man stood back suddenly, looking like he wasn’t sure how to handle the situation anymore.

“Funny one, your friend,” his voice was uncertain.

Jack held up another note, ‘I like kicking dickheads in the balls.’

The man backed away uncertainly muttering, “There’s no need to be like that, I was only trying to be friendly.”

Claire and Jack walked back to their spot linked arm in arm.

The rush had died down a little when they reached their post. Mr Bubbles sent Claire off to the office to get more bubble mix. This left Jack standing awkwardly next to the old man.

“I know what you are thinking,” Mr Bubbles said, a twinkle in his eye. For a moment Jack didn’t know what was coming next. “How does he do it?” Mr Bubbles touched Jack’s arm making her feel uncomfortable. “I guess I just love making people smile,” he sighed returning to arranging his things on the table. Jack was glad she wasn’t expected to contribute anything. “He’s a strange little man,” she thought.

The afternoon was quieter for them, even though the mall was even more packed. With just a week until Christmas, people were focusing on the shopping. During the morning, the atmosphere had been mostly hectic but friendly. As the day dragged on, Jack picked up on a more desperate feeling. Shoppers wanted to get in and out with the minimum of fuss.

“Hey, how are we doing?” Jack turned to see David. She had been bending down to pick up a toy dropped by one of the children and was embarrassed to think she had been giving David a good view of her bum as he walked over. She nodded and smiled to indicate everything was OK.

She looked around but both Claire and Mr Bubbles were busy. A shiver ran down her spine as David crept closer. He put his right arm around her back, not quite touching but pulling himself uncomfortably close.

“You seem to be doing well,” his voice too close to her ear. “Everyone seems to like you.” He moved back a little letting her breathe. She played with her hair nervously. Until that day, she hadn’t really had to deal with unwanted attention. She was beginning to see why women hated it so much.

“Are you interested in getting more experience?” David smiled. Inwardly she shuddered at was implied, but outwardly she just shrugged. All she was in it for was the extra money over Christmas. She wanted to get Isaac something to show how much he meant to her. She also wanted Ben and Jenny to know how much she cared.

“Perhaps on Monday I can use you in the back, stock taking with me?” Luckily a young family came over, the two children pulling their parents towards Mr Bubbles. Jack used the diversion to sneak away, leaving David looking a little disappointed.

---

Plaid shirt, jeans and braces; Jack was glad to return to her normal clothes. She looked in the mirror thinking of the Lumberjack song from Monty Python. Every part of her body ached a little, but especially her legs and feet. In a way it felt good, she had earned her money.

“Shit, fuck. Really?” Jack tried not to listen in to the conversation going on behind her.

“Uh huh,” there was a pause, “Uh huh,” there was a longer pause, “Well OK I suppose. I guess I’ll see you when you get back.” Claire closed her phone, Jack could see how disappointed she was in the mirror. Claire had a pretty face she thought, although it looked tired and disappointed now. She looked for a little too long and got caught by Claire.

“My boyfriend,” she explained, “he’s at a science conference in York.” She let out a deep sigh. “He was supposed to be back tonight, but they’ve asked him to stay on for another day.”

She looked down at her phone as if it was it that had disappointed her, “He’s the tech support and the project leader wants him to do some sort of projection for her presentation.”

Jack shrugged, she wanted to say something but of course couldn’t. She watched as Claire pulled on her jumper, wishing she could wear simple clothes so elegantly.

“I know it sounds stupid and wet, but the flat feels empty without him,” she shook her head as if amazed at her own soppiness.

Jack pulled out her notebook and began to write, Claire watching her as she did.

‘Why don’t you come back to mine for tea and booze?’

For a moment, Claire looked uncertain. Immediately Jack felt stupid, of course she wouldn’t want to. They had only met earlier that day.

“You know what? That would be fucking lovely! Is that OK? I won’t be causing you any problems with your boyfriend?”

“Shit,” thought Jack, “would Isaac mind?” After all, it was his flat not her place.

‘It’s fine, Isaac won’t mind,’ she wrote, she paused for a moment then added, ‘We’ll pick up some extra booze on the way.’

The off-licence was crowded with people heading to Christmas parties, or just back home after a hard day’s shopping. The two women shuffled along the little aisles, often having to press themselves close to the shelves to allow other customers past. Jack admired the different drink on offer, thinking how much more options there were nowadays. She held two bottles of cheap red wine in her hands and Claire was laden down with a crate of Polish lager and a bottle of vodka.

“Do we have enough do you think? Will Isaac like the Polish beer?” Claire looked at Jack uncertainly. Jack smiled back and nodded. She felt a little giddy, like a little girl who had made a new best friend on the first day of school. She wished she could talk, so she could fill Claire in on Isaac. She so wanted to get Claire’s opinion on everything from clothes to relationships. How long had Claire been with her boyfriend, did they live together?

It was tough getting everything back to Isaac’s flat on the bus. Claire had to wrap her arms around the crate of beer and nearly toppled over when the bus came to a sharp stop.

The streets were dark and grey, punctuated by the bright lights of different Christmas decorations. They ended up going one stop too far because they were unable to get to the front in time and the driver ignored the bell. It only added an extra five minutes to their journey but in that weather it seemed a lot.

The stairs in Isaac’s building were grey and concrete. Their footsteps echoed as they made their way up. They must have been making lots of noise because Isaac was waiting for them in the open door.

“Hello slugger, what have you got for me?” Jack was relieved to see the white teeth of Isaac’s smile. Jack made an exaggerated ‘presenting’ motion towards Claire.

“Hi,” Claire said a little sheepishly, “My name’s Claire. I hope it’s alright, but Jack invited me back for tea?”

“No problem, the more the merrier,” Isaac said genuinely, as he took the beer and bags from Claire. Claire smiled back and Jack felt proud of her boyfriend’s ability to put others at their ease. She wished she could tell Claire how Isaac had read to her while she was in the hospital, his deep tones making her feel comfortable as she lay there.

The room quickly filled with noise as Claire told Isaac about their day. Jack noted that Claire skirted diplomatically around the subject of David and the creepy guy in the coffee shop.

“Mr Bubbles is mad, I honestly don’t know his name, everyone just calls him ‘Mr Bubbles’” Claire told Isaac.

“Do you think his wife knows or does she call him that too?” Isaac pondered.

“Is there even a Mrs Bubbles? Who knows? That’s insane!” Claire chuckled. Jack wondered what it’d be like to be held by Mr Bubbles. Surely he must have been young once.

Jack noticed Ben skulking in the corner, she wondered if Isaac had warned him to keep a low profile. She took out her notepad and wrote; ‘This is Ben, my cousin. He’s staying with us’ and then passed it to Claire.

If Claire had recognised Ben from his ‘Missing’ pictures around town she didn’t let it show. She smiled and said ‘hi’ to the young man.

Ben smiled shyly then offered his hand to shake. The formality of the gesture made everyone laugh. Ben looked like he was blushing, but he laughed as well. He kept his hands behind his back after that, like he was an elderly royal visiting a distant land.

They ordered pizza and settled down with a beer each. It may have been room temperature, but it went down well after a day working in the mall. Claire and Isaac sat on the sofa telling stories of the people they had seen. Jack sat on the floor watching them talk, happy to be off her feet. Ben sat a little way apart from the main group, his cat curled up on his lap.

As the drink flowed, Isaac put on some music. He owned a beaten-up laptop through which he accessed Spotify. Jack had already seen his neatly labelled playlist, one for each month going back at least three years. Jack had looked them over once, wondering why each song had been chosen, and what had been going on in his life at the time. When she had come across a love song she had felt a pang of jealousy.

“Oh, I love this one,” Claire jumped up and held out her hand to Jack who looked at it like it contained an electric shock. “Come on, dance with me. Please!” begged Claire putting her hands together like she was praying.

Jack was unsure at first, but eventually let her self be pulled up by the arms. They danced close together, Jack turning her head to make sure Isaac was watching. When she was sure he was, she danced a little closer still. One song followed another, and they continued to dance until the doorbell announced the arrival of pizza.

They sat on the floor to eat it. The boys sat crossed legged, Jack copied the way Claire folded her legs underneath her. They laughed and joked. Jack liked observing them like this. She was pleased to see them all getting along and, in her head, daydreamed of them hanging out again in the future. She wondered, and hoped, she would get on with Claire’s boyfriend.

She was something of a free spirit and never seemed to be intimidated by anything. Jack could imagine her with one of those super smart guys from Uni. Or perhaps she had gone the other way and was shacked up with a real bad boy.

A moment later, she realised Ben was watching her watching them. She smiled at him and punched him playfully on the arm. Ben pretended to be hurt but laughed. Isaac asked Ben about where he wanted to travel to when he had the time starting the three ‘talkers’ off on another conversation. Looking out of the window, Jack noticed the tree lights going on in the flat over the road, a distant constellation in another galaxy. She wondered what life was like there.

“Come on,” Jack was brought out of her doze by Claire jumping up and again offering her hand to Jack. “If this is going to be a party then we’re going to have to get changed. The boys can handle the clearing up.” Jack looked at Isaac who just nodded, seconds later Claire was pulling her out of the room.

Through the walls of the bedroom Jack could hear ‘Intergalactic’ by the Beastie Boys playing.

“You don’t have many clothes do you?” Claire noted.

Jack wrote down that she had only just moved, which was true.

“Still, I’m loving the 90s retro!” Claire dived in pulling stuff out. “You should wear this,” she thrust a stripy, colourful mini dress into Jack’s arms. At first Jack hesitated at the idea of getting undressed in Claire presence. Although she had been feeling more and more comfortable as a girl, she was unsure if she ready to go that far. Her body was still alien to her. A few moments later, Claire was pulling off her top to try on a few of Jack’s and she realised she’d just have to go with the flow.

“It must be nice living in a flat with two guys who have the hots for you?”

Two guys? Jack wondered what she could have meant.

“Don’t play coy, you must have seen how your cousin watches you,” Claire grinned knowingly. Jack shook her head, was there something she was missing?

Eventually she decided on a white sheath dress that Claire said made her look like a sexy ghost. Jack wasn’t sure about the ‘sexy’ part, but she did like the way it fitted her. Looking in the mirror she tried to pull the fabric straight experimenting with the way it fitted her.

“Don’t be daft,” Claire said shrewdly, “There’s not an ounce of fat on you.” Then she giggled, “You sexy spider you.”

Jack rolled her eyes. What an idiot David was!

Back in the living room, the only cleaning the boys had done was to pile the pizza boxes and plates up in kitchen. Jack knew Isaac was sensitive about being asked to do anything that could loosely be described as ‘women’s work’.

They both got up as they came in, Jack felt shy under their gaze.

“Wow, looking hot!” Isaac said, “What do you think Ben?”

Ben nodded appreciatively, “Aye, nice one.”

They danced together to some old Northern Soul, Jack in Isaac’s arms as Claire and Ben danced a little awkwardly. It took a while, but soon they were laughing together, clearly enjoying themselves. During a slow number, Isaac leaned in as if to whisper, but instead kissed and then gently bit Jack’s ear. It made Jack feel hot and flustered, wishing they were alone.

As their little party continued, Jack paid more attention to how Ben reacted to her. It was true he did seem to keep looking back at her, although Jack got the impression he desperately needed to be held more than anything.

Isaac changed the playlist and, as the music got faster, they danced together as a group, shaking their bodies and laughing. Isaac passed around a joint and Jack kept their drinks filled.

It was gone three when Claire finally called a taxi. She hugged all of them as she left, making them promise they’d do it all again when her boyfriend got back. She was still wearing the stripy mini-dress she had borrowed from Jack’s wardrobe, promising to give it back at work. It ended up being nearly four when they made it to bed, leaving Ben snoring lightly on the sofa, Jess curled up on his stomach. Jack was half sure she heard Jess mumbling something about noisy humans.

Isaac closed and locked the bedroom door behind them. Jack turned, a little surprised. At first she was unsure if she wanted sex. All their little touches through the evening had made her hot and bothered, but the booze and drugs had created a fog she wasn’t sure she could break through.

“Take your clothes off,” Isaac’s grin showing wicked intent.

It took her a while to find the zip, and she wobbled as she pulled it down. She looked up, half expecting to see Isaac laughing, but the look on his face was one of serious desire.

Jack stood there a little awkwardly, feeling uncertainty as well as arousal.

“Underwear as well,”

Jack tried to do this as sexily as she could, desire overcoming the effects of the booze. She felt, perhaps for the first time, like a true woman.

“Get on the bed.”

---

Jack didn’t know how much time had passed when she woke up needing the toilet. They had both collapsed asleep after sex. For the first few seconds of consciousness she thought she could hear a faint voice calling to her. There was a crack in curtains through which she could see the black, star-filled night. She moved her head around, feeling groggy. It took her a moment to realise her hands were still tied to the bedstead. She tried pulling on the silk scarf that held them there but had no luck. Had she been fully sober, it would have been an easy job.

The pressure on her bladder was building so she tried to nudge Isaac awake. First she tried gently, then harder and eventually she tried kicking him to get him awake. None of it worked and she thought remorsefully about how deeply Isaac slept when he had been smoking weed.

It was no use, she couldn’t wake him and the need to pee wasn’t going away. She returned her attention to her wrists. It was a silk scarf, surely she could escape it? It took her a good five minutes but eventually, to her relief, she broke free.

She was desperate now, but she still took the time to pull on a T-shirt and her silk pyjama bottoms. In the back of her mind she was still thinking of what Claire had told her about Ben.

She felt her way along the hallway, accidentally knocking the cheap plastic clock off its nail. In frustration, she noticed that it had stopped. She shook it, which did nothing, then examined the nail. It seemed like too small a target for her current state. She placed the clock down on the floor as carefully as she could and moved on.

She sat down on the toilet and let out a silent sigh of relief. A jet of pee hit the porcelain, the sound easing her head. She still felt tender down there. This had been the first time she had felt someone, or someone’s something, inside her. It had been, she paused to think of the right words, well frightening and a little uncomfortable at first. Thankfully only at first, after that it had been, good, very good. Had she been permanently changed? Was there now no way back? Did she even want there to be?

There was some scratching at the door and then Jess came in. She was a little unsure at the idea of letting the talking cat see her on the toilet. Who knew what she would tell and to whom? Still, Jess’s purring was calming, as was the feel of her soft fur against her legs.

She made her way slowly back to bed being careful not to make a sound. She wasn’t helped by Jess circling her legs.

“I’ll feed you in the morning,” she thought.

“It is the morning,” Jess said grumpily.

You can read my thoughts?

“Just the ones at the top of your mind,” Jess looked at her. She realised Jess’s mouth didn’t move when she spoke.

“Well let’s get you some food then,” she thought.

After putting food down for Jess, she went and sat in the armchair, watching Ben sleep. There was the little pad of paper and pen Isaac had used to write down their pizza order. Absentmindedly, she picked it up.

‘Who am I?’ She jotted down, ‘Am I a boy or am I a girl?’

Wait a minute, she had just written that! Whenever she had tried to tell either Isaac or Wren about her past something had stopped her, but now here, with no one to read it she could write freely. She sat up, her hangover disappeared in a moment. She could write her story down now and show Isaac later. But what if it stopped her showing him? Well she could write it now and leave it for him to find.

Looking up into the kitchen area she saw the clock on the microwave had reset to 00:00. Had there been a power cut?

She sat there writing for nearly an hour. Outside the window the moon was large and round. When she was finished she worried about Ben, not Isaac, finding it. She searched around and found a brown envelope from an old gas bill. She slipped her small essay inside and wrote; ‘For Isaac’ on the back, leaving it next to the kettle in the kitchen waiting for Isaac to make his coffee.

She stood looking at it for a moment, wondering if she was doing the right thing. After all she didn’t want to ruin what they had. Eventually she took a deep breath, even if he thought she was mad, she wanted to be honest with him. He had been honest with her.

Afterwards, she made her way back into the bedroom. Isaac lay there still asleep. She watched him silently for a moment or two before noticing how the room smelled of stale beer and weed.

She tiptoed over to the window meaning to open it and let some fresh air in, but as she got closer to the window, she felt a strange feeling of dread. Like when she had been a little boy and had been too frightened to look under the bed. It seemed colder near the window. There must be a draught she reasoned.

Her hands felt the fabric of the curtains but at first she couldn’t bring herself to pull it back. She remembered that film with the child vampire at the kid’s bedroom window. As she pulled on them, a part of her expected to see its face staring back, but of course there was nothing there. She let out her breath, only then realising she had been holding it in.

Something moved outside that made her jump. Standing in the car park was a man all dressed in black. At first he was facing away but slowly he turned until he was looking directly at her. It was Mr Bubbles from the mall. His face looked demonic in the yellow street lighting.

Jack felt strange, like something was boiling inside her. Her ears were ringing and she felt a powerful need to go down and find out what he wanted. She walked slowly as if half asleep. In the hallway she realised she had put on her trainers but not noticed doing so.

She opened the door and left. Moments later, she was unable to remember if she had left it open or not. Had she brought her keys with her? For some reason she was unable to focus her mind on the questions. All that mattered was the stairwell, the back door and the man waiting for her beyond that.

As she reached the back door something caught her attention. Jess was brushing up against her legs.

“Wake up! Wake up!” the cat cried.

I am awake

“No, be really awake. You’re in danger,” the cat said. What a strange thing to say thought Jack, as she turned the handle that released the lock on the door.

Mr Bubbles was standing only a few metres away. He held out his hand gesturing for her to come closer. Something was making a din near her feet and seemed to be trying to trip her. Whatever it was it couldn’t be as fascinating as Mr Bubbles. She gave the cat a sharp kick and felt it fall back. There was some shouting somewhere, but it didn’t interest her. How could it when Mr Bubble was about to show her a trick?

He took out one of his large bubble rings, which reminded Jack of a hula hoop, and began waving it about. It seemed to be making a bubble of such amazing colours it seemed to glow against the night air. She reached out wanting to touch it. Glancing to one side, she saw him smiling and she giggled, or would have if she could. He nodded, letting her know she could touch.

The bubble didn’t burst when she touched it; in fact it felt quite tough. It kept expanding and expanding until it began to surround her. It went down underneath her and seemed to be close to closing together at the top.

She felt a light, swirling sensation in her stomach. It reminded of the feeling she had when she went on a fair ground ride as a kid, half fear, half excitement.

“Wake up!” something jolted inside her, maybe her survival instinct, “Wake up!”

She could hear Jess now and started to panic. She was trapped! Her limbs flailed around uselessly. Some small part of her brain called to her - heads up!

She pushed and kicked her way up to the closing hole at the top. She could feel the cold night air coming through on the top of her head. She pushed and pulled with all her strength. First her eyes popped out seeing the manic face of her captor then her nose and her chin. But that was all as the bubble fastened itself around her neck. It wasn’t too tight, but claw as she might at it, it wasn’t coming undone.

She felt a jolt in her stomach before realising in horror that she was floating upwards. Was she going to disappear into the night sky? She could see Jess running around on the ground desperately trying to leap up and catch her. Even when the cat did reach the bubble her claws just bounced off it.

Thankfully the bubble came to a stop a few metres up. Something tugged on the bottom. Jack looked down and realised that Mr Bubbles had tied a line of something like string to the bottom.

“Well, well, well,” he laughed to himself, “That hasn’t happened before. Normally I get all of them in.” He scratched his scraggly beard, “Well it’s not like you can call out, and I should be able to work out how to get you all in back at base.”

Jack felt something tug at the bubble and realised she was being pulled along like a balloon. She looked at the closed curtains as she passed. She could see the wildness in her eyes in her reflection. She desperately wanted to call out for help but couldn’t. In frustration, she punched at the insides of the bubble. It did no good, from outside there was no change to the surface and now her hands hurt.

Underneath her she could hear Jess hissing and spitting. All that did was earn a hard kick from Mr Bubbles.

“Stupid cat!,” he hissed, all the pretence of his nice children’s entertainer act gone, “Why don’t you go catch a robin?”

Mr Bubbles brought her to an unmarked white van underneath a flickering yellow street lamp. He tied the string attached to her bubble to the lamp post as he opened the back of the van. Once the doors were open he pulled her down. Through tear stained eyes, she saw his horrible face growing nearer. They were tears of anger and she tried kicking the sides of the bubble to make it bump hard against him. It didn’t work.

When they were about level, Mr Bubbles shoved her hard into the back of the van. Once she was in, she rose up, banging her head on the roof. She looked around frantically. There were other bubbles in there with her. Inside each one was a shadow of a human moving slowly around. She turned just in time to see the doors being shut. Her world was plunged into darkness.

Chapter 7

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

Twisty turny, turny twisty. But. This time, some answers as well. A spaceship with multiple personality disorder. Jack meet Jackie. Ashley gets used to married life.

Thanks again to Robin, Chris and Jess. You guys rock. And to all of you who have stuck with my mad tale, especially those of you who take the time to comment. Not much further to go now…

17,041 BCE

Ship slipped through the darkness of space exactly the way bricks don’t. Command was focused on the blue, green and white plant, third from the star. Readings showed the atmosphere included oxygen. This indicated life. Primary Function required them to explore further.

The temperature of the Third Planet was colder than home, but the area around the equator was habitable. As yet, there were no signs of intelligent life forms, let alone civilisation. Speculation queried what civilisation meant. Command referred to Primary Function. A group of life forms significantly developed to prove a problem, or an opportunity for Home.

As Ship neared the orbit of the Third Planet’s moon, Command released Satellite. Ship stayed hidden behind the moon of the Third Planet as a precaution. For three turns of the planet Ship, stayed silent as Command monitored the systems. No communications were detected on the surface.

Half way through the fourth turn of the planet the first signal was received. Command noted there were no signs of electrical activity. Ship could move closer without fear of detection.

Command monitored the pictures as they were received. Large migrating beasts moved across the largest continental mass. Even in the coldest regions, life was complex and teeming. Perhaps if Command hadn’t been concentrating so much on the planet's life-forms, it might have noticed that the local star was going through a period of atypical instability.

The first Command knew was when Defence reported an unusual amount of radiation. The second was when Command lost contact with Satellite. Signal reported further waves of solar radiation heading their way. The Third Planet’s atmosphere was sufficient to protect the surface from solar radiation. Command moved Ship into the upper atmosphere.

The malfunction was detected a further quarter turn of the planet later. Radiation had burnt a small hole in the Ion harvest arm. Normally, this would have been picked up but for a mistake in Ship’s construction. A misunderstanding in production around the word Parsek, which on the Isle of Zog was a measurement in height but in the Heavenly Mountains was a measurement of width. This meant the sensor was too far away to pick up on the damage before it was too late.

Command ordered evasive action. It aimed Ship towards coordinates 53.4808° N, 2.2426° W. The area was covered by snow and ice that should help soften the landing and could be used to cool Ship’s engines if they overheated.

Again, the wrongly placed sensors let Ship and Command down. Without better information, Ship ploughed into the landmass and came to rest buried a hundred metres down.

Command waited. After 2,534 planetary orbits of the local star, Command stopped hearing the great heartbeat of Home. After a further fifty rotations of the local star, Speculation proposed that Home had faced a civilisation ending event.

All systems were alone. With no other orders coming, or likely to come, Command initiated its primary function. The categorisation of all life forms.

It was a further 1,986 orbits around the local star before Command detected the presence of the first human in the crash area. This creature was a strange one.

---

1612 AD
18 August
A little after lunchtime

“Jennet Device, come forward.”

Jennet watched the bailiff cautiously. Her eyes lingered on his giant fists. They were deformed, bones having been broken but not set properly. Perhaps he had been abroad fighting in one of the European wars?

“Don’t dawdle girl. Nowell is waiting.”

Jennet shivered. She feared Roger Nowell more than bailiff. More than the wood shed where James would lock her. More than the metal poker by the fire.

She nodded, shuffling forward. The Assizes were different up in the courtrooms. Down in the cells, the walls were bare cold, slimy stone. Up here they were clad with wooden panels. She imagined this was what one of the King’s palaces was like.

The two magistrates, Altham and Bromley, sat up high. Her neck hurt looking up at them. She remembered the two from earlier. Her legs wobbled as she moved. The bailiff led her to the centre of the room and told her to stand on a table. She was higher than the others, but still lower than the judges.

It was then that she saw Alizon, Elizabeth and James. They didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was they who looked scared. She stood a little taller, straightening her leg and willing her hands to stop shaking. Even old Demdike looked sullen and avoided looking in her direction. She had never known anyone who could silence old Demdike. Jennet smiled.

“Are you one Jennet Device?”

Jennet looked at Nowell as if he was stupid, “You know that.” There was a spatter of laughter around the court. She saw his jaw clench. She flinched, fearing what would come next.

“Yes,” he spoke with barely controlled anger, “I do. Please tell the court.” He gestured to the other people. The ones she didn’t know.

“I am Jennet Device,” she mumbled.

“Speak up.”

She repeated herself only louder.

The trial continued along similar lines. Nowell led her. She knew what she was supposed to say. She told them about the meeting at Malkin Tower, who had been there and what their plans were.

Then she got to Bell. She hated that dog. He always got the best scraps from the table and she had to wait for what was left. She remembered James feeding it the last stale bread as she cried with hunger.

Elizabeth, her mother, stood up and began to scream. Jennet kept her breathing shallow. She had heard it all before. She thought only of how itchy her new clothes were. Of how Nowell’s cook had scrubbed her clean the night before. Being clean was a special thing, she knew that. You could come from the poorest family in the village, but if you were clean they’d all remark on it with approval. Her mother had never kept her clean. She watched silently as her mother was dragged from the rooms still screaming. She felt light and free, as if she couldn’t be happier, no matter what.

A couple of times after that she caught sight of her brother and sister. Each time it made her feel stronger. There was going to be no heated poker, no draughty, dirty shed to be locked in. What did it matter if some things weren’t quite true? Weren’t they witches? Wasn’t she doing God’s work? Soon she would be free of them.

She watched James’s face as she told the court he’d conjured a black dog and told it to kill Townley. She could have laughed out loud as he began to shake.

Once she was done, the bailiff led her from the room. She wanted to stay and watch the trial, but he said it was no place for a child. She reminded him she’d been given special permission to give evidence. Permission from the King. He told her to sit quietly in the passage or she’d feel his fists.

She sat still, hands in her lap, listening to the voices coming from inside the courtroom. She couldn’t make out what they were saying. During the long, dark hours she’d been shut in the shed she would pass the time by counting. If she could know exactly how long she was there she’d have some sort of control.

The light was getting dim when the people came out. She couldn’t see her mother or family as they were led out. She tried standing on tiptoes but the crowd was too tall. She heard voices shouting. She wanted to know what had happened.

She had to wait another hour before Nowell’s cook came and collected her. She had wanted to tell her all about the trial. What she had said, how everyone had listened to her, even the high ups, but as she spoke she noticed the cook wouldn’t look at her.

“Listen to me!”

The cook didn’t stop. She walked fast with long strides. Jennet had to all but run to keep up.

“Listen old woman!”

Nothing.

“Listen witch!” She hadn’t meant to say it. The word had been there at the front of her head.

The cook stopped suddenly. She turned and with one swift blow she hit Jennet. The force was enough to knock the girl to the floor.

“Your voice killed people today. I don’t want to hear it.”

---

The church school was cold. The walls old and full of holes. Jennet hated the clothes they gave her. They were clean, too clean to go through the forest and fields in. On the day she had arrived, the teachers had made her stand on a chair in the middle of the main hall. There she had to stand for the whole day, holding a sign while the other children walked by. Later she had learned that the sign read, ‘I am the daughter of a witch. The child of sin.’

She wasn’t surprised that the other girls kept away from her. During the mornings, she sat at the back of the class learning her letters. Most of the others were much younger than her. Even the older ones were too scared to speak to her. It didn’t bother Jennet, she had vowed not to speak.

At first, the teachers and the priest beat her. They made her stand on the chair holding the sign. One time they had her made stand there all through one day and night. She then had to stand there while the other children ate around her. None of it broke her. Nothing was as bad as what she had come from. She didn’t have to fight a dog for food. She didn’t have to stay awake in case James came back drunk.

You can put a bird in a cage, but you can’t make it sing. Old Demdike had told her that.

As time passed, her teachers began to explain her dumbness away. They said her mother had cursed her before she went to the hangman. One claimed to have seen a giant black dog watching the school from the moors. They knew the stories from the trial.

None of this mattered to Jennet, she knew the truth. In her silence, she was ensuring she couldn’t hurt anyone else. By not speaking, she wouldn’t allow them to use her again. When she spoke again, it would only be because she had chosen to.

About a year after she had arrived ,Jennet woke in her bed. The air was cold, even in the gloom she could see her own breath. Looking through the high window on the opposite wall she could see a full moon outside.

Something moved outside the dormitory room. One of the teachers at the ale she thought. She lay down hoping for sleep. It was probably only a few hours before the cows would be needing her.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The noise seemed to come from one of the windows in the hall. Jennet looked around, none of the other girls seemed to have heard it.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound called to her. Like her mother’s voice in her dreams.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She was out of bed and half way to the door before she realised what she was doing. She halted at the door, her hand on the knob, frozen.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The door was heavy, but unusually made no sound as she pulled it open.

The corridor was empty. From the moonlight she saw a little bird, a robin at the window. She let go of the air in her lungs, not realising she had held it there. She scratched the pane of glass next to the bird who looked up at her. That’s when she heard the singing.

“Here's to the maid in Lancaster Town
Here's to the maid in the calico
I vow and declare he loved her so dear
Cause she did wear pretty caps upon her hair”

It was coming from the big hall. “Fol the dol the day,” Jennet hummed under her breath.

“Says Master unto Missus I'm going out of town
Says Missus unto Betsy, You go unto your bed
And I for your Master
Will wait up in your stead.”

She walked slowly down the corridor. As she got closer she could see the faint flickering of light. Someone had lit the great fire. The master wouldn’t be happy.

“Twelve o'clock came and knock was at the door
Missus went out to see who was there
And on the cold ground he tumbled her down
And into her hand he put half a crown”

Entering the hall, she saw a figure huddled next to the fire. She wanted to run, but her body kept moving her closer, and closer.

As she neared the figure she reached out her arm. It took seconds before they touched. It felt like years.

The back felt surprisingly frail. The shoulders hunched and the spine bent. The figure turned at her touch. It was Old Demdike. She leapt backwards. She could see the red marks where the rope had been tightened around her neck.

“Don’t fret girl. I ain’t here to hurt you. I’m here to begin your training.”

---

Now

Jack woke up as her balloon was pulled out of the van. She couldn't see what or who was moving her. Mr Bubbles was nowhere to be seen. Jack and the other helpless captives were carried down what looked like an alleyway and into what, for all the world, looked like a little allotment.

The area seemed to be in a little valley. On each side was a steep slope, at the top of which were wooden fences. She imagined they were the backs of people’s houses, but didn’t hold out much hope they’d be seen. The incline was too steep, and anyway, she expected there would be some sort of magic concealing them. Jack's bubble was in the middle of the line so she could see something of the direction they were heading in.

Ahead of them was a rickety old shed. In the dim light, Jack could just about make out a sign above the door saying 'My Office'. Was this Mr Bubbles hideout?

As she watched the bubbles in front of her being taken inside, she wondered how they would all fit. With everything that had happened to her she wouldn't have been surprised if the shed was some sort of Tardis. However, once she was through the door, she saw the opening to a tunnel.

The inside of the tunnel was like a mineshaft, with wooden props holding up the roof. There was only just enough clearance for one bubble and whatever it was that was carrying it. Jack had to keep her head down as close to the bubble as possible to avoid concussion.

Their strange little party kept on moving. In the dark, all notions of time became meaningless.

Jack let out a silent cry for help. They had entered a room with a much higher roof. So high it disappeared in the gloom. What seemed like hundreds of bubbles were lined up on huge shelves, looking like a giant's snow globe collection.

Cranes and pulley systems were set up to help put each bubble into place. Jack's mouth hung open as she saw the little people operating them. They looked like gnomes. In fact, they looked like garden gnomes. Their happy little faces turned demonic in the light from the torches.

"Isn't it amazing!"

Jack looked down to see a happy little face looking back up at her.

"Mr Bubbles has totally revolutionised the way we fight evil!"

There was a small 'donk' sound as Jack kicked the side of her bubble closest to the gnome.

"Of course, thousands of you are signing up to his plans for bubble protection. Isn't it marvellous!"

'Donk, donk' the little man seemed entirely unaware of the two punches Jack had aimed at his head.

He turned Jack on her side and began rolling her bubble towards one of the makeshift lifts. She was nauseous from the spinning and the fear. As he placed her bubble on the lift he arranged it so she was now upwards and facing forwards.

"I thought we'd put you on the top shelf. Seeing as Super Mr Bubbles has seen fit to give you a view."

As the lift started up Jack watched the little man walking away muttering, "What will he think of next, truly wonderful."

As the lift pulled her up she could see the room spread out in front of her. Shelf after giant shelf filled with bubble people and still room for more. When she reached the top, she was greeted by the grinning face of a female gnome.

"Hello, hello," the girl-gnome grinned at her. "Now which way do you want to be set?"

Jack nodded furiously, hoping to indicate head at the top.

"Don't want to speak. I don't blame you! No doubt Mr Bubble's mastery of social media has taken your breath away. I mean he can now bypass the biased pro-Elf mainstream media and speak to the real gnome in the street!"

'Donk, donk, donk,' Jack kicked the side of the bubble in pure frustration.

"You want to be careful there missy, that bubble is there to protect you for all time. You don't want to go damaging it in just the first century!" She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, "I tell you what, as you are a special case I'll see if we can't get you some pillows."

After that she was left alone.

---

Ashley was woken as usual by the sound of Heather preparing her bath in the next room. The blankets that covered her were warm and heavy but the sheets next to her were cool and empty. Edward, her husband, must have woken up early.

"Good morning my lady, your bath is ready when you are."

"And my paper and cigar?"

Heather nodded uncertainly, her commitment to her duties struggling against her conviction that young ladies didn't read newspapers. And if they did, they certainly didn't do it in the bath with a cigar. "Yes, of course ma'am. And what will ma'am be wearing this morning?"

Ashley thought of the bewildering arrangement of billowing skirts, crinolines, corsets and other clothes/death traps she had on offer.

"Something practical," she stated, if that wasn't a contradiction in terms.

"Will ma'am be going riding with sir?"

She looked out of the window at the blustery wind, "No, I don't think so."

The bath was warm and splendid. Every ache in her body just drifted away. She opened that day’s Manchester Guardian and lit her cigar. She could remember seeing her own dad doing the same on Sundays, back 'before' all this happened.

How long had it been? Over a year? She did the maths, nearly two now. Some days she thought she was going mad and her memory of the future was just a dream. But no, she had to cling on to it, and the hope of one day returning.

Something caught her eye, a small notice tucked away near the back of the paper. She read it through twice.

"Heather!" she called.

"Heather!" she leaned out of the bath to see if she could see her.

A few minutes later a head popped around the door, "What is it ma'am?"

Ashley looked down at the paper and read the notice for a second time. "I need to persuade Edward of something. I am going to need that purple dress he likes so much."

"And one of your, er, 'French style' corsets, ma'am?" She blushed.

Ashley sighed, "Yes, I suppose so."

It is an odd thing, as a grown woman, to have someone else dress you. That said, Ashley knew she would have no chance if she tried it herself. From the weird cage-like thing that kept her skirts laid out to the many layers that had to sit just right. What made the whole damn thing worse was that she would have to change it all again for the evening.

When eventually she was buttoned and knotted in she went downstairs. She found her husband in his study talking to Jacobs, the man who ran his estate.

"Ah, my lovely wife," He took her by the hands and kissed her on each cheek. Even now several months after their marriage Ashley felt a swoop in her stomach when her husband kissed her. She busied herself brushing and tucking at his jacket. He had clearly been expecting the grounds.

She was proud of him. He was handsome and kind. Respected by most people and those who disliked him did so out of envy. She felt certain of this.

Ashley waited silently while the two men discussed the business of the estate. She knew her chance would come.

"Do you have plans for tomorrow evening my love?"

"Hmmm, no why?" His tone was suspicious.

"There is an entertainment in Manchester that I'd like to attend,"

"Not another play!"

"No, not a play. A talk." She didn't look at him, instead moving closer.

"What is this talk about?"

"The gentleman in question is back recently from South America. He's been studying trees out there."

"Honestly, when have you shown the least bit of interest in botany? It’s all I can do to get you to come out and survey the grounds."

It was at this point Ashley decided to unleash the eyes. She looked up at her husband as innocently as she could stomach.

The train journey in was totally uneventful and verging on dull. Ashley had long become accustomed to the strange sight of mills billowing out smoke, rather than playing host to discount warehouses and upscale flat conversions. The walk from the railway station was a little more exciting as Ashley felt the noise, sights and smells of the city hit her. There was something about the grime and the solidity of the city that made her feel real.

The stonework of the buildings was the same as she remembered from the future. At least the grander ones. The ones that survived.

It wasn't a long walk down Oxford Road but, used now to the silence of the country, she felt overpowered by the confusion around her. They walked past the building site that would one way become the museum she he'd been brought to on school outings many times. The arches of the doors and the shape of the structure were beginning to become visible as they passed. They headed to Owen College and the talk.

The room wasn't large and only had around twenty seats set out. Being the only woman in the room her bright clothing stood out against the black and dark colours of the men's suits.

The man was short and round. He seemed to be bursting out of his expensively tailored suit. His blond hair was tousled and badly kept. Ashley watched him intently. She could see the beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck. The projector contained a single bulb, which generated a lot of heat.

He wasn’t the only one drawing attention. Females weren’t common at scientific meetings. It didn’t help that Ashley’s billowing dress took up a full two seats. There was a general din in the room coming from the different directions. She could feel the eyes on her. No one spoke to her yet she could feel them all looking.

“Have you been here before?”

Ashley turned. The man, smiled at her, “I may have a job for you. In my company.”

---

Isaac woke, his head still fuzzy from the night before. He was surprised not to find Jack there. He knew she didn't have work today. Rubbing his head, and with half remembered memories from last filling his head he staggered into the kitchen.

By now, he could work the coffee machine in his sleep. As it came slowly to life, he sucked the cupboards for paracetamol. He grunted as he found two empty packets, throwing them quickly into the recycling. His luck was in, he found two tablets in their packaging near the back.

Downing them with a glass of water his vision came into focus. There was an envelope next to the kettle. At first, he thought it was a bill, then he noticed 'For Isaac', written on it. He recognised her handwriting immediately.

Rummaging through the envelope he pulled the paper out.

'Dear Isaac' it started, 'I was born Jack Sheppard...' it continued. At first, he couldn't take it in, his mind too overwhelmed by the effects of alcohol. It took him a great effort to focus. After he finished reading he turned it over again, reading it twice before putting it down.

So she had figured a way around the enchantment. She was clever. He went to look for her, but the flat was small and he knew she couldn't be here. Eventually he went out onto the little balcony to smoke and think. Through the window, he watched Ben sleeping. Perhaps Jack had gone to the shop?

Re-entering the living room, he noticed a scratching sound. At first, he thought it must be in his head but when it didn't stop he went to investigate. In the hall, he located the noise to be coming from the front door. The other side of the front door to be precise.

Slowly he opened it. As soon as the gap was big enough, Jess sped in. The cat seemed to be crazed running around his legs.

"Did we shut you out?" Isaac bent down scratching the cat behind his ears. The cat looked at him oddly before dashing into the living room. Isaac walked slowly behind her.

"Get off!" Jess had jumped up on Ben and was already licking his face. Ben waved his hands around wildly before suddenly going quiet.

Ben turned to Isaac, "She says something has happened to Jack."

Isaac began to talk but Ben motioned for him to be quiet.

"Jess is saying something about a bubble man," he looked at the cat again, "Jack’s been kidnapped.

"By who? The unseen people?"

Ben replied slowly, "Jess wants to know how you know about the unseen people?"

"Wait there," Isaac disappeared. He returned a few minutes later with a pack of what looked like sticks. He sat cross-legged, throwing them on the floor. He looked at them for a while before turning to Ben.

"They have her in a special place," he looked back at the sticks, "a very magical place." He looked back again staying silent for a much longer time. "On an allotment."

---

“Jack. Jack.” Jack’s head was pounding, “Wake up Jack!”

Jack woke up suddenly. She was sitting in a leather armchair in a darkened room. Sitting opposite of her was the outline of a figure. The figure stood up and moved into the light shinning down from above Jack.

“What the fu…” Jack stopped, “Hey, I’m speaking!”

“Of course you are speaking!” the young man in front of her smiled, “We’re inside our mind. You can always speak in here.”

“Wait.” Jack looked around. She could see an old lamp and framed pictures on the wooden panelled walls, “So this isn’t real then? Is that why you are me?” She looked her male self up and down, “Or who was me… or whatever.”

“I didn’t say this isn’t real, just that it’s inside our heads.” The young man smiled, “And yes I am you and you are me,” he paused, “Goo goo g'joob.”

Jack laughed nervously.

“That is to say I am Jackie and you are Jack,” Jackie ran a hand through his hair, “Or maybe that should be the other way round.”

“What?”

“It’s how we escaped.”

“I don’t remember.”

“No, that’s what I am here for.” Jackie sits back down and lights come back on. They are in some sort of library. The style is mid-century modern. One wall is made completely of glass. Outside is a windswept beach.

“Where are we?”

“I’ve already answered that.”

“I recognise it.”

“Well you would. It’s you. Or us?” Jackie scratches his head.

“It is the beach mum took us to. Somewhere near Morecambe I think? We had ice cream and ate sandwiches in the sand dunes. I had crab paste.” She ran a finger over her mouth remembering the grit of the sand mingled with the softness of the bread.

“It’s a fix point for both of us.”

Something jolted in Jack’s head, “You said we exchanged places so we could escape.”

“So you could escape.” Jackie smiled, like a teacher watching a pupil get her head around long division. “I stayed here so one of us could remember.”

“Remember what?” Jack was looking out of the window, watching seagulls swooping in the sky.

“The trees.”

“Trees, what are the trees?”

“Who.”

“Who?”

“The trees are a ‘who’ not a ‘what’. They captured them and turned them into trees so they wouldn’t change. Or at least not so fast.”

The scene changed, they were in a strange forest, surrounded by the most unusual trees she had ever seen. Their branches twisted up into the sky like contorted limbs.

Hearing a cracking of twigs Jack spun around, “Hey there’s someone else here with us.” She watches as Wren and the paramedic walk into the clearing. They look tired. Wren moves like someone about to fall from exhaustion.

“Hey!” she waves her hands, “Hey! Inspector Wren!” She was standing right in front of the older woman yet she didn’t even flinch.

She turns back to the male Jackie, “Can’t she see me?”

Jackie shakes her head. “We are just projecting ourselves here. We can’t do anything.” Jack watched them move on. She holds herself realising she is still in a T-shirt and pyjama bottoms.

“You can’t feel cold here, we are inside your head.”

“So why am I shivering?”

“My guess? Because you think you’re cold.”

Jack tried to stop herself from shivering. It didn’t help. She crossed her arms and turned to Jackie. “OK no more of this vague Mr Miyagi bollocks, what is going here?”

Jackie sighs, “Well, put simply, we were kidnapped by a pan-dimensional computer that crash landed here roughly nineteen thousand years ago.”

“How does Mr Bubbles fit into all of this?”

“He doesn’t. He thinks he’s helping everyone by trapping them in the bubbles so the computer can’t turn them into trees.”

“That’s nuts!”

“Pretty much.”

“It’s all, well… It’s all bollocks.”

“That’s a more concise summary, yes.” Jackie taped his fingers on the armrest of the chair, “Tell mum we love her. Tell her we forgive her…” He paused for a moment before adding, “Remember Jack, music is magic.”

These were the last words Jack heard before she blacked out.

---

Jack woke up. The air was so cold it hurt her lungs to breathe. She looked around the landscape. It reminded her of pictures she had seen of Iceland. On the horizon she could see what looked like a giant white wall. Further down the black slope she lay on was a lake. The water was bright blue from the melting ice. A lone duck swam on the surface. How did she get here?

Looking left and right she realised her vision was blocked by a fur-lined hood. She was wearing something that looked like ski-wear. She was a little disgusted to find it was pink and white.

She turned 180 degrees. No signs of life aside from patches of tough looking grass and a couple of birds in the sky.

“Where am I?” she muttered to herself. She could speak. Did that mean this was all in her head again?

“It seemed easier if I gave you back your vocal cords.”

Jack swung around. Standing behind her was a seven-foot tall silver humanoid. The shape was female but the surface was completely smooth and shiny.

“You are Jack,” its voice seemed to be coming from outside its body.

“Yes, I know,” there was a pause, “Is this in my head or is it real?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes both.”

“Is that possible?”

“Yes.”

“Can you say anything other than yes?”

“Yes,” the robot was featureless. Jack wasn’t sure if it was joking.

She changed the subject, “Who are you?”

“I am Command, this is Satellite 2.” Jack felt like she was staring at one of those magic eye pictures and she was the only one not able to see the image.

“A split personality?”

Command/Satellite tilted its head slightly as if observing her.

“Did you bring me here?”

“Yes.”

Jack rolled her eyes, “Why?”

Command/Satellite pointed, “Human subject number one.”

Jack followed the robot’s finger. On the lake was what looked like a little canoe with a man sat in it. He was too far away for her to see his features but he was dressed in animal furs, looking a little like the picture of an Eskimos she remembered from a book her mum used to read to her.

“Follow.” Command/Satellite strolled off before Jack was ready. She had to run to keep up with its stride. She didn’t have time to think if it was a good idea.

By the time they reached the shore, Jack was out of breath. As she took in deep breaths of sharp, cold air she watched the man in the little boat. It didn’t seem like he’d seen them. He held a spear in his hand while watching the surface. In a quick, sharp movement he plunged the spear into the icy water. When he pulled it out a fish was impaled on the end.

Jack watched transfixed for a long time. Command/Satellite stood still making no sound but a low hum.

She saw the man jump back, almost capsizing the boat. A metallic ball lifted out of the water. The man threw his spear at it, but it just broke, falling uselessly into the water.

Command/Satellite pointed, “Satellite two.”

A circle appeared in the metal sphere, a little like an eye. Out of the eye came an eerie purple light that engulfed the man. The man let out a scream, his body contorting into bizarre shapes. Then the light was gone.

The world changed around Jack. First, she was plunged into darkness, then a tiny prick of light appeared in front of her. She ran, or possibly flew towards it. It was hard to tell. As she got closer she could see the light flickering. Closer still and she could see it was a fire.

Strange shapes danced in the flames. A giant with the head of a sabre tooth tiger. A woolly mammoth that breathed fire. A giant fish swimming amongst the stars. The closer they got Jack could see small figures dancing with these giants. Child-like they danced to some unheard drumbeat. Around them the sky lit up. Stars brighter than anything Jack had ever seen.

Jack had once gone on a camping trip to the South of France. It was so long ago now she wasn’t sure which life it had been. She could remember lying on the ground watching the shooting stars, visible because of the lack of cities or cloud. This beat even that memory.

“What is this?”

Command/Satellite looked at her, “Form.”

Time passed.

Jack woke up. She was covered in dew and surrounded by long grass. It was the same landscape as before, only now the ice had retreated. The lake, no longer fed by melting ice, was now a river. The air smelt of spring.

“Why am I here?”

“This must stop.”

“What must stop? Turning people into trees?”

Command/Satellite just looked at her with a blank face. The spring sunlight reflected and refracted off its face, breaking into a tiny rainbow. It pointed again. This time Jack saw a collection of round thatched roofs.

“Change.”

“Change must stop? You can’t stop change. It's the one thing that stays the same.”

“Funny.” It gave no sign of laughing.

“You understand funny?”

“Funny is not hard to understand. It serves little purpose. Trees serve a purpose. Trees evolve slowly. Time to categorise, understand.”

Jack tried to sit up but only tripped on the hem of the woollen skirt she was wearing. When had she changed? She landed painfully on her bum.

“Is that why you are here, to take me back?”

“You shouldn’t be here. Humans don’t travel in dimensions.” Command/Satellite turned its head to face her again. “Trees have use. Trees can be categorised. Trees live longer than humans.”

Jack began scrambling backwards, trying to escape it’s reach. She knew it was no use, she couldn’t outrun it and there was no time to hide.

“Trees live longer than humans. It is a kindness.” It reached its long arm out towards her. Its hand was almost touching when Jack heard it.

CLUNK

CLUNK, CLUNK,

Someone, or something was throwing rocks at the robot.

CLUNK, CLUNK, CLUNK,

Command/Satellite turned to see what was happening. Jack took her chance. With all the strength in her body she kicked hard at the monster’s right leg. Her feet stung, but she had done enough. It began to wobble. Its foot became lose as it skidded on the soft ground.

Jack was stunned, she didn’t expect it to work. The next thing she knew someone had taken her by their hand and was pulling her away. Her senses returned and she began to run. She could see the back of her saviour. It was a he.

They ran and ran. From behind her Jack could hear the fud, fud of Command/Satellite. Against her better judgment, she turned back. The robot was growing. She let out a scream. Then there was a cutting sound. For a second she couldn’t breathe, see or do anything but feel the man’s hand pull her forward. Then they were alone.

All round them was space. Literal space. Stars, galaxies like glitter on a black dress.

“You!” Finally she saw the face of the man.

“Yes me.” Peter Pan grinned back at her. Now she recognised him, he had been the man in the boat. “I think it is time you took me up on my job offer. Don’t you?”

---

The glass tower gleamed in the sun. It was even taller that The Shard and it dwarfed the Gherkin.

“I based the design on a tower in a fairy tale. Apt don’t you think?”

Peter Pan was sitting behind a large desk. All around them were glass walls. Above them, a glass dome. Jack thought of a bird cage.

Jack tried to move back away from him and nearly tripped. Looking down she realised she had, had another wardrobe change. She teetered in her stilettos. Her legs further restricted by the black and white sheath dress she was wearing. It reached down below her knees.

“Please, take a seat,” He gestured to a seat on the other side of the desk to himself.

She had heard dresses like hers referred to as ‘wiggle’ dresses. As she moved towards the chair she understood why. She carefully smoothed the skirt underneath her as she sat down.

“I suppose I should thank you?”

“Oh, no need my dear. I am the one who should be thanking you. It’s not everyday I find someone with your talents.” Peter pulled out a cigar from a drawer, “do you mind?”

“No, but those things are not good for you.”

Peter paused to think, “Jack, you’ve seen how long I’ve been alive.”

Jack just watched him as he lit the cigar. He took two giant lungs full of smoke and puffed them out. As the smoke disappeared up into the roof he smiled.

“Now let’s talk about you working for me.”

“Doing what?”

“Making money of course.”

Jack sighed, “I wouldn’t have the first clue what to do.”

Peter Pan beamed from ear to ear. He tousled his messy blond hair, “Jack, I want you to meet someone.”

Jack turned as she heard a lift pinging behind her. A woman in her early thirties exited the lift.

“Jack please meet my assistant, Ashley.”

---

Ben and Isaac hid behind a compost pile. They watched as the procession of Gnomes led the human balloons into the shed. Mr Bubbles stood by the door watching impassively, his face largely hidden by shadow.

“Shit, what’s on my arm?” Ben moved his arm suddenly.

“Shhh! They will hear us.”

“Something just crawled on my arm!” Ben half leapt, half fell backwards.

Isaac grabbed him by the arm to stop him falling further. “Stay calm. We don’t want to be detected.”

“Do you think she’s in there?”

They both turned to look at the cat. Isaac waited as Ben appeared to be listening to Jess. “What did she say?”

“It smells like it,” there was a pause, “but something is off.”

“What?”

Ben turned to Jess for a moment longer, “The Gnomes smell wrong. Something has happened.”

“Do we know what?”

Jess shook her head. The three of them looked at the shed again. The last of the bubbles was inside. Mr Bubbles looked around, for a moment he seemed to look at them. And then he was gone, shutting the shed door behind him.

“Can we get closer?”

“Jess says she will go. Less chance of being detected.” Ben kept looking at the cat, then laughed.

“What now?”

“Long story short, humans smell and make too much noise. The Gnomes would know we were there.”

Isaac shrugged.

The two boys stayed silent, watching Jess as she darted across the allotment. She zig-zagged, hiding behind over turned wheelbarrows and plant pots. Her back fur was hard to see against the dark shadow of the shed. Isaac did catch a glimpse of her pocking her nose against the wood of the door. Her face momentarily illuminated by the cracks of cold light coming from within.

It seemed like an age before she returned.

“What did she find?”

“She could smell their emotions.” Ben watched the cats face, “Fear, confusion. Anger as well. They are fighting amongst themselves. Panic.”

Isaac nodded. That couldn’t be good.

“Is she still in there?”

Ben looked at Jess for a while, “Yes, no. Jess can’t tell.”

“We need to get in there,” Isaac said, his voice louder than he intended. “Anything else?”

“Just a message. Left there in the… I can’t really explain it. Jess says it was left by someone. Not human.” He stopped listening to the cat, “She says it was left in the smell.”

“What was it?”

“Music is magic.”

Unseen People 8 – Birth of the Songbird

Tracklist:

Standing in the Way of Control – Gossip / Roadrunner – Jonathon Richman and the Modern Lovers / Life on Mars – David Bowie / Born to Run – Bruce Springsteen / She’s a Rainbow – The Rolling Stones / Firestarter – The Prodigy / Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds – The Beatles / Sympathy for the Devil – The Rolling Stones / Legal Man – Belle and Sebastian

Music is Magic

Six months Later

The bassline started

/Your back's against the wall/

Jack locked her flat door behind her and started her warm up. She’d been jogging from her flat in Shoreditch to her work in the City every morning. She found it cleared her head.

She picked up the pace as she turned off Totter’s Lane onto the high street.

/You're forgetting who you are/

She pushed a stray hair out of her eyes. Despite being early the June sun felt warm against her skin. It felt like bliss.

/It's part not giving in
And part trusting your friends/

As she passed the newsagents the elderly owner smiled at her. He was putting out bundles of papers fresh from the press.

She ran this route most mornings. Shoreditch is only a few miles from The City. The streets were full of the left overs of the night before. The morning sunlight redeeming even the lowest of cans.

At the traffic lights she had to stop and let a car by. Only then did she feel the pain in her legs. She knew she had to keep going. A new track came on and Jonathan Richman and The Modern Lovers started to sing.

Jack was passing Coal Hill School when she became aware of the car. She heard it first, the tires screeching on the tarmac. When she did see it, it was weaving side to side. The driver was either very drunk or just didn’t give a fuck.

There was a group of about five kids near the entrance of school. All in their early teens.

/Roadrunner, roadrunner
Going faster miles an hour/

Something took over. Without thinking Jack speeded up.

/I'm in love with Massachusetts
And the neon when it's cold outside/

It was too late, the car was too close to the teenagers. She’d never get there in time. She could hear the cries from the kids. There was an anguished yell. It took her a moment to realise it was coming from herself.

She was moving faster than she had ever moved before. Without thinking she was in front of the school kids, holding her arms out wide. For a second she was elated, she’d made it. She could save them. But that was replaced by dread, what could she do to stop a speeding car? Why did she think she could help?

The car got closer and closer. She could see the driver. A young man, his face distorted by sunlight reflecting off the windscreen,

Then. Nothing. Her iphone changed track changed again.

/It's a God-awful small affair
To the girl with the mousy hair/

Jack felt heat building up inside her

/But her friend is nowhere to be seen
Now she walks through her sunken dream/

A bright light seemed to be surrounding her. Did the driver have his headlights on?

/Oh man, look at those cavemen go
It's the freakiest show/

The song began to build. Light was everywhere. It wasn’t just everywhere, it was in her. Apart of her. It held every atom of her body together.

Everything moved so slowly. Her body felt the impact of the car as it hit her. She felt as if she were a detached soul, observing. Every bone in her body shattered, every organ shredded. The car cut through her like a knife through butter. The light was in her head. It was everything. It blocked out the pain. It was leaving her. Everything that made up her body was leaving her.

/Is there life on Mars?/

Everything turned to black

---

Jack opened her eyes. She couldn’t hear a thing. She saw the car, it had turned over onto its side. She could see people running towards her.

Sound started to come back.

There were kids shouting. One slapped her on the back, the force and the surprise nearly making her wobble over, “That was frigging amazing!” His voice seemed distant, like an echo. It reminded her of the way voices reverberated and get lost in a busy swimming pool.

“How did you do it?” A girl, about thirteen came towards her. Jack could only stare, not quite sure what she meant. Did? What did she do?

“Are you OK?” asked a man in a tie. A teacher she guessed.

“Uh-huh,” She looked at him hoping he had the answers. By the expression on his face he did not. “What happened?” Her own voice sounded strange. As if an actor was speaking the words for her.

“That car was going to kill them, then you…” The teacher stared at the overturned car, “You… turned it over.”

“I what?”

More people were coming around them, school kids chattering loudly.

“You, well there was a bright light. Like a flash.”

“That was soooo awesome!”

The kids were crowding around her. She felt trapped, claustrophobic.

In the distance she could hear a siren. Then two sirens. They were drawing closer.

“I, I, I’ve got to go,” She pushed past the teacher. Through the throng of school kids. She was vaguely aware of people trying to get her to stay. Then she heard the song.

/H-Oh, Baby this town rips the bones from your back
It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap/

Her legs worked automatically, slowly she picked up pace.

/`Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run/

And then she was running.

---

The company provided showers and changing rooms for the top staff. Many of the traders built up aggression that they need to work off over lunch, or before they went home to their families.

As the PA to the director Jack had access to the showers. At that time of the morning she had the women’s changing rooms all to herself. She just stood there letting the waterfall fall over her. She imagined she was standing under some waterfall in someplace tropical.

She slowly looked over her body for any signs of damage. There were none. In fact her skin all but glowed. She put her head under the water again. Its warmth reviving her a little.

She wanted to run when she spotted Ashley waiting for her, but the tightness of her dress and height of her heels wouldn’t allow it. The company didn’t have a dress code for the female employees, that would open them up to law suits. But it didn’t take Jack long to understand what was expected.

“You’re late.”

“Only by five minutes.”

“Still,” the older woman shook her head, “it’s going to be a long day!”

Jack kept quiet, she knew it was true. She listened patiently as Ashley explained the day ahead. When the board members were arriving, food was ordered. Who it was she had to pay attention to. She didn’t go into what would happen later, that remained unsaid.

There was a team of PAs all working to get the space set up. The hand outs and other supporting material had all been printed out the night before. Still, chairs needed placing, projectors tested.

“Don’t worry about the old bat,” Felicity, the PA to the vice-president of marketing whispered to her, “she’s always cranky when the board are in.”

Jack looked over at Ashley, she doubted she was much more than thirty. Thirty five at tops.

“She’s not all that bad.”

“Not all the time, no.” Felicity sighed, “Just when the board are in.”

It was 9:30 when they finished setting up the meeting room. Ashley sent them down to meet their guests. The reception area had been set up with breakfast food, coffee, tea etc. Jack looked longingly at the food. With no one there yet she hungrily grabbed half a slice of unbuttered toast. She didn’t dare risk anything that might spill on her dress. There would be no time to change.

As the board members arrived she kept at the back. Each were accompanied by more beautiful people. Mostly young women with the odd young man as well. Jack glanced down at the card Ashley had given her, the name read; Wilfred Glendon. She glanced over and saw Felicity talking to a large rotund man in a suit that seemed to have been tailor made to fit a circus tent. Poor little Felicity looked like a moon orbiting a gas giant.

“Mr Glendon!” She had spotted him. He was lean and wiry, with a hint of muscle and power underneath his Saville row suit. In stark contrast to his otherwise impeccable appearance his hair was wild and unkempt.

“Please,” he held out a hand, “Call me Wilf.”

“Certainly Wilf, welcome back.” She smiled brightly. Glancing back at Felicity trying to get a word in edgeways with her man-mountain she figured things could have been worse.

In the distance she could hear the sound of a piano. How odd, she thought, Mr Pan normally didn’t approve of music in the office. He didn’t want his team distracted.

Jack led Wilf up to the top floor. The outer walls were all windows.

“No matter how many times I come back the view always takes my breath away.”

“Doesn’t it just, Mr Pan says the English weather is never less than dramatic and we have the best seats in house.”

“Peter certainly has a way with words.”

Jack turned and looked at Wilf, he stayed looking out of the window. The only other person she had known to call Mr Pan ‘Peter’ was Ashley. She realised she had been staring for too long when he turned and caught her looking. He grinned and she felt herself going red. Despite the lines around his eyes, and the grey speckled hair his face looked young.

/ She comes in colours ev'rywhere/

She smiled and turned away, “The other will be here soon. Shall we find your seat?”

/ She combs her hair/

“You can lead me anywhere my dear”

/She's like a rainbow/

There was no hiding it. Jack was blushing from head to toe.

The day was a long and hard one. The meeting room was closed to the PAs while the talks were on. They worked in the adjacent rooms preparing the next presentation. At the end of each session Ashley would lead the board members through to the reception for more refreshments.

During the final change over the board had left the projector on. It showed an image of a dense forest full of strange looking trees. For some reason Jack couldn’t help but stare.

“Come on!” Felicity nudged her, “We get a rest after this one!”

“What do you think it is about?” Jack gestured at the screen.

“I don’t know, a metaphor for growing your stock profile probably.” Felicity groaned, “Look at this J. They just chuck their left over food and wrappers on the floor. It’s like kids.”

Half way through each lecturer two of the PAs had come in with baskets full of chocolates and sweats. It had been Jack and Felicity’s turn last.

The final session started at 7:00pm. All the PAs sat slouched in chairs. None of them had the energy to talk. Jack took her shoes off feeling an enormous sense of relief. She pulled her legs underneath her and dreamed of a long hot bath.

They all turned and looked as the door to the meeting room opened. Ashley closed it quietly behind he.

“OK team, they are nearly done.”

Jack glanced down at her watch, it was past 8, how had it got there so quickly.

“You each know what you are doing next.”

They nodded silently. Looking from face to face Jack could tell she wasn’t the only one suppressing the urge to sigh.

The night air was warm as Jack and Felicity led their respective board members out to the waiting cars. She probably didn’t need her little red jacket. The limousines were black, elegant and ever so slightly menacing. The men waiting beside them looked like they had served in war zones. On whose side she didn’t speculate. She doubted there were many politicians who enjoyed this level of security.

Getting in the car wasn’t easy in her long, tight skirt and heels. The leather seats were so comfortable she had to fight the urge to fall asleep right there. Felicity was already making the men drinks.

“Do you want one as well?” Felicity smiled, but Jack could see the tiredness in her eyes.

She feared a drink would send her to sleep, “OK, just a little one.”

Wilf reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope, “How about we pick things up with a little marching powder?”

Jack looked at the envelope suspiciously but Felicity was already making a temporary table to with the back of a file on Jack’s lap. She sat uneasily as the two men hoovered up generous lines from her lap.

The neon lights of the restaurant burned brightly as the driver helped her out of the car. How long it would last she didn’t know. She was burning up her already depleted reserves of adrenaline.

“Let me help you,”

Wilf was grinning at her. Was it the drugs she thought, or did he have more teeth than before? “Let me help you,” he said, offering her his arm.

It felt strange to be walking in on his arm, but she saw Ashley nodding approvingly.

---

The restaurant was noisy and full. It had been opened just before the last war by a Jewish family fleeing the continent. In the 50s it had established itself as a hang out for artists, writers, actors and other Soho bums. In more recent times its third generation of owners had cashed in on its notoriety to draw in the big money.

Wilf pointed to a black and white photo of Francis Bacon sitting in the bar area, “It’s been a long time since any artist has been able to afford this place. At least not one of the good ones.”

Jack laughed, she could feel the drugs in her blood. She could remember an advert for a premium petrol from when she was little. It showed a golden liquid coursing through an engine. She imagined the cocaine in the same way. Spreading through her body, making it tingle.

The group had a private room all to themselves. The wood panel walls were covered in posters for West End plays long since closed.

“Look at the way they stare at the waitresses,” Felicity whispered to her. Jack looked around, it was true. She wasn’t sure which got the hungrier looks from the men. The food or the young women.

To her left Wilf had ordered a steak, extrarare. Jack herself had ordered a Caesar salad, light dressing, no parmesan. The waitresses kept topping up her glass when she wasn’t looking so she had no idea how much she'd drunk.

Once the food was over the crowed started to thin. She hadn’t noticed Mr Pan and Ashley leaving, but they were no longer around.

“Shall we go on for a nightcap? I know a bar.” Wilf placed a hand possessively on the small of her back, leading her out before she had time to protest.

It was just Wilf, Jack, Felicity and Felicity’s board member now.

“Are you OK sweetie?” Felicity whispered, “You seem a bit out of it.”

“Hmmm?” Now she mentioned it Jacks head was spinning a little. The streetlights around them burned brightly like lost constellations of stars. Wilf’s hand pulled her onwards.

/I'm the trouble starter, punkin' instigator/

The bar was part of a private member’s club. The building was new but the bar fitting looked vintage, probably saved from a pub pulled down in the East End. Wilf ordered them all double brandies.

“Where is that music coming from? It doesn’t sound like the sort of music you’d hear in a place like this.”

/I'm the fear addicted, danger illustrated/

“What music?” Felicity looked concerned. She pulled away as the fat man put a meaty hand on her thigh.

/You're a firestarter, twisted firestarter/

“She’s manifesting,” The fat man was grinning, pointing at her hand. She looked down it was glowing.

“You are going to be quite an asset.” She looked into Wilf’s eyes. They were the eyes of a predator. She tried to push away but his arm was around her waist and he wasn’t letting go.

“Hey! Get off her!” Felicity grabbed Jack and pulled her away.

“Now don’t be like that…” In front of Jack’s eyes Wilf’s faces was changing, becoming more wolf like. No one else in the bar seemed to have noticed. In fact most were watching with only a mild interest. As if they were a bit of street theatre.

/I'm the bitch you hated, filth infatuated/

Jack pulled away, she patted Felicity on the arm. “I’m OK. I think I need to go splash some water on my face,” she looked back Wilf’s face seemed to have returned to normal.

She walked away, uneasy on her feet. Once she was out of the bar she started crying. What was wrong with her?

“Hey, are you OK?”

Jack looked up. It was a woman with an American accent. She reminded Jack a little of that actress, Zooey Deschanel.

“I think my drink was spiked…” Jack started crying again. She felt an arm go around her shoulders.

“Hey, hold on in there kido. My name's Jess, can you walk?”

“Uh-huh,” Jack sobbed, “Just.”

“I’m going to get you to a taxi. Do you need to get to a hospital?”

Jack shook her head, she didn’t think so.

“OK, good news.” Jess put an arm aroundJack.

“Jack, oh my god, are you alright?” through her blurred vision Jack saw Felicity.

“I think we need to get her home. Do you know where she lives?”

Felicity nodded.

“Good, let's get out of here.”

“Not so fast,” The three women turned to see Wilf standing behind them.

“Get back douchebag!” Jess stood up and put herself between the two younger girls and the man.

“Don’t make me laugh!” Wilf gave out a sharp yell, half laugh, half bark.

Jack felt anger grow in her. She didn’t want this woman to get hurt. All she had done was try and look after her.

“Get. The fuck. Back.” Her head suddenly felt clear. Perhaps it was the adrenaline. The music started again.

/Picture yourself in a boat on a river/

Jack felt the tune fill her body. Light seemed to be escaping through her skin.

/With tangerine trees and marmalade skies/

She saw Wilf backing away. There was a cry. It seemed to be coming from far away. She hoped it wasn’t one of the women.

/Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly/

It all seemed so obvious now, she could make him go away.

/A girl with kaleidoscope eyes/

Everything went multi-coloured.

---

“Miss,”

“Miss,” A hand shook her awake.

“Huh?”

“You can’t sleep here miss.”

As her eyes focused Jack could just about make out the outline of a policeman.

“One too many?”

“Urgh, where am I?”

“Shoreditch Miss, Totter’s Lane.”

Outside her own flat. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, but you can’t sleep there.” The policeman shone a light in Jack’s eyes.

“Argh!”

“Is there a boyfriend I could call? Girlfriend maybe?”

“Isaac,”

“Who’s Isaac?”

“I…” Jack clutched her head like it was hurting, “I’m not sure. He’s important. They tried to make me forget.”

The policeman sighed, “Getting over a broken heart?” he offered her his hand, “Well we’ve all been there.”

He pulled her up. She wobbled and nearly feel over. One of her heels was broken.

“Can you remember where you live?”

Jack nodded and pointed to a door on the opposite side of the road. He helped her walk across the road.

“Do you need help up the stairs?”

She shook her head as she struggled with her keys. Eventually the door came open.

“Well take better care of yourself. No boy is worth risking your life over.”

Jack gave him peck on the cheek as a thank you.

---

Jack was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. She vaguely remembered her phone ringing, looking, seeing it was Ashley and ignoring it. She no longer wanted anything to do with that place. In her dreams she saw her mother, only she looked younger. She was dressed like someone from a BBC period drama, collecting wood in a forest. Next she saw Isaac and Ben, they were breaking people out of Mr Bubbles' lair. they moved under cover of darkness, Jess and Mr Tiddles directing them.

Then she woke. At first she thought she was still dreaming. The room was dark, with only a little light coming in through the window. Everything was still and unnaturally quite for London. There were no cars, no rats scuffling under the floorboards. Only silence.

Then it was broken.

/Please allow me to introduce myself/

A face moved forward into the light, it was Peter Pan.

/I am a man of wealth and taste/

Jack tried to speak but her voice was gone again.

"Well if you wont be any use to me then there's no reason for you to speak," his words dripped with malice. gone were the playfulness from his face. "Of course you could change all that..."

Jack clutched her throat, she tried to cry out but no sound slipped passed her lips.

"The other satellites, my brothers, are stupid Jack. All they want to do is count and qualify humanity. But I'm different. The first humans they met where gatherers and foragers."

Jack put her hand onto her bed side table, grasping desperately for a weapon. Peter's hungry eyes fell watched her eagerly. Like a cat watching a mouse. Both still, both waiting for the other one to run.

"I met someone different, I met a hunter. The shape of his mind," Peter leaned back like a man reminiscing about his for taste of cognac, "He understood about prey. About how to use people."

Jack grasped something. It felt smooth and cool in her hand. It was her iPhone. She picked it up, hoping to text for help. Then a thought occurred to her. She pressed play.

/L-O-V-E love, it's coming back, it's coming back/

The music was coming through her.

/Refer to our discussions, confirm the terms of our love affair
I exercise all options, and I know I'll see you there/

Peter's face looked panicked. He couldn't control what he was saying.

/You're the Legal Man, you've got to prove that you're no liar/

Light was building in her again.

/I'll render all services you may reasonably require/

Peter was stuck to the spot unable to move. His eyes were wild with fear.

/Get out of the city and into the sunshine
Get out of the office and into the springtime/

the light built and built...

/Get out of the city and into the sunshine
Get out of the office and into the springtime/

It filled her completely...

/Get out of the city and into the sunshine
Get out of the office and into the springtime/

She no longer knew where the light stopped and she began...

/Get out of the city and into the sunshine
Get out of the office and into the springtime/

The last thing she saw was Peter's face contorted in fear. Everything went white.

---

Jack could feel the sunlight on her eyelids. At first she dared not open them. What would she find, who would be waiting for her?

There was a warm breeze coming in through the window. She counted backwards from five. 5, 4, 3, nerves built, 2... 1. She was alone, no trace of Peter. She looked to her right, at the bedside table. There was her iPhone. She picked it up. It was open on iTunes, last track played was Legal Man by Belle and Sebastian.

Jack tried to speak, but no noise came out. She put her head in her hands realising she was mute again.

She wanted to believe it had all been a dream, but she knew it hadn't. What should she do now? She could only think of one thing, she had to find Isaac, Ben and her mother, check that they were OK.

Pushing herself out of bed every limb ached. So what did she know? That a man calling himself Peter Pan, who was possibly a satellite from some ancient spacecraft, was kidnapping women who had special powers, possibly because they had previously been turned into trees by the same spacecraft. none of it made much sense. It was like some crazy science fiction.

She went to the wardrobe. Pushing past the expensive dresses she'd worn for work she found the item she had been looking for. The old pair of dungarees, the ones that had followed her here from the nineties. She picked them and a women's green, long-sleeved T-shirt. Not much of a superhero costume she would have admitted, but it felt right.

There was little she took with her. She collected the few bits of clothing that didn't remind her of work, her phone and books. It all fitted easily in her wheelie suitcase. All her old life numbers, Isaac, her mum, had been deleted from her phone. She'd just have to go home and hope they were easy to find. Would they be angry at her for having been away for so long? She made herself worry with visions of finding Isaac with another woman.

Euston station was hot and sweaty. Her small form was jostled and squashed in the crowd. A single train ticket to Manchester was ruinously expensive, but it didn't matter. She had to get home. To the shadow of those hills where things made sense.

It was after the morning rush, but before lunch when she finally made it onto the train. She nodded and smiled at a few of the passengers, glad that none of them tried to talk to her, or expected her to talk. The train was mostly quiet and she easily found a seat with a table to herself.

As the train pulled away she carefully put her earphones in. She was worried she might derail the train. As Kate Bush began singing she could feel her body filling with power. But this was a gentle power, flowing through her like a phone recharging. Not like the bomb she feared she was.

She was so memorised by the passing fields and the music that she didn't notice the woman coming to sit down in front of her. When she looked up she got a shock. Ashley smiled at her and mimicked taking her earphones out.

"Well, you gave Peter quiet the shock."

Jack just looked at her. She had liked Ashley, she didn't want to think she was working with Peter.

"I know it all seems odd. You have to understand Peter's not bad,"

Jack crossed her arms.

"Well, he's no worse than many. And he can make you powerful! When I first came here, got free of the trees I mean. I was so alone. Then this man found me and I," she looked out of the window, "I became his."

She looked at Jack for a long time. Then she realised something and passed Jack a notepad and pen from her bag.

Jack wrote; 'Don't you belong to Peter now?"

"It isn't like that. I work for Peter, but he teaches us how to use our powers. That's right, there are more like us."

'Felicity, the others?'

"Yes, all came out of the trees. All have different powers."

'What's yours?'

"I don't age. Or at least I age very slowly."

'How old are you?'

"That's a difficult question,"

'How?" Jack wrote quickly, filling up the page in the notepad.

"I was born eighteen years ago, but when I escaped the tree I ended up in 1875. I have been ageing slowly ever since."

'Why do you work for Peter knowing who he is?'

"He finds the most exceptional women and makes us powerful. He could make you powerful."

Jack took some time composing her reply. "He makes you powerful so you can do what he says. When the board are here you are still on the outside, only let in to serve them."

It was Ashley's turn to cross her arms. "I don't think it is quite like that. I have a lot of responsibility."

'But what is it you want. What will he give you?'

"I-I-I want to go home..."

'Home is Rochdale, Hernsbridge?"

Ashley just nodded. a group of teenage boys pushed past, talking loudly about the coming weekend's football. They sat quietly watching each other until they had passed.

'We are going home then. Come with me.'

"It's not as easy as all that. Everything has changed. She paused, "or more to the point, they haven't changed. I have. Don't you think I haven't thought about it? Ever since the date of my mum's birth passed..."

Jack reached out and took her hand. She pointed at the place on the notepad where she'd written 'come with me.'

"No," Ashley said firmly, "I can't. Peter, he... I owe him,"

'You mean he owns you,'

"Look Jack," Ashley took her hand away, "You haven't seen the things I have. If you want to leave, that's fine. I won’t tell him we spoke. But if we cross paths again that'd make you an enemy of Peter's and an enemy of mine."

'Sorry, but I won’t fight you.'

Ashley sighed, for the first time she looked like someone who could have lived more than 140 years. "I'm afraid you won’t have a choice." She got up and left.

---

Jannet hated the Nutters. William and Isobel were intolerable. Ever since she’d returned to the village they’d refused to let her forget what she’d done to their family. She had to remember what Old Demdike had told her. Stay silent, watch and learn. Your time will come.

So she waited, year after year. Keeping to herself in the house. She’d collect wood in the forest and tend the animals. She had little, but she had enough. Mostly she practised the lessons Demdike had taught her.

When she had surplus, which was rare, she’d wander into Wheatley Lane. Knocking door to door hoping to sell.

It was late summer when she saw him. She’d been going door to door selling. It hadn’t been a profitable day. She had found a spot in the shade down the side of the Butterworth’s cottage. If you didn’t mind the mud you could squat down and rest for a while with no one to bother you. It was while she was hidden in the shade that she noticed the young man.

It took her a while to recognise Peter Robinson. She remembered him from her childhood, he’d been a spotty kid who she hadn’t paid much attention to. By the time she had come back from the school, he’d left to join the army, fighting in Ireland or the continent. Now he was back. His shoulders had broadened. The muscles in his arms were evident as he loaded his cart. She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he moved. None of the boys in the village had ever had this effect on her. She always saw them as half animals, dangerous if not fed, or if they had consumed too much beer, but most other times harmless.

Peter had moved away from her view. She shifted around the side of the wall so she could see him better. There was a young boy, probably his brother Edmund sitting watching and talking. She couldn't hear the words but she could hear the tone of his voice. It sounded so different from the others. Clearly he’d been around people from faraway places like London or Scotland. She watched the movement of his body. How did he live in it? It must drive him mad to be so beautiful.

Over the next few days she’d find herself going out of her way to see him. She found an old tree at the top of a small hill that gave her a view of the road in and out of Wheatley Lane. She’d sit there hidden from passers by waiting for him to come past on his way to the fields. She hated the others even more for not being him. Isobel and William, who thought themselves so special, were like dogs compared to her man. Sometimes she lay awake in her bed thinking up ways they could meet. She felt like her love was so strong it could bend time.

She was outside her home chopping wood when they came. William with his face covered in pock marks from where he scratched his skin during the pox as a child. Isobel holding her head high as if she were the lady of a manor.

“What can I help you with?” She took a huge swing at a particularly large log. As her axe fell she imagined it was William’s head.

The real William looked at his wife nervously, urging her on.

“There something going on. Strange noises in the woods behind the village. Spirits at large.”

Jannet put her axe to one side. “What have you heard?”

“Strange noises, like voices only distant and present at the same time.”

“Distant and present at the same time, that does sound strange. Owt else?”

The couple looked at each other, “There are lights.”

“Lights? Like torches or like the stars?”

“Neither. Well like the sun only smaller. It doesn’t flicker like fire.” William’s jowls wobbled as he spoke. Jannet imagined trimming off the fat.

“Where have you seen these lights?” She scratched the end of her nose enjoying seeing such an ‘up standing’ couple squirming.

“At the edge of the woods, near Wheatley Lane,” Elizabeth explained, “So will you help us?”

Jannet considered saying no. That they had refused her food and shelter when she had been in need. But that wasn’t how it worked. You had to help those who came asking for it. There would be a price afterwards, but you helped first.

Perhaps she would see Peter there?

---

She surveyed the clearing and the edge of the trees. The strange lights were most likely thieves. Cattle or sheep rustlers. Jannet thought it unlikely it’d be highwaymen out this way. The nearest routes were all too poor to make a living from. Still the people were worried and she knew it was her job to go looking.

She picked a spot in the forest where she knew she wouldn’t be seen, but that gave her a good view of where the Rochdale and Oldham roads met. She hunkered down and waited.

Old Demdike had taught her how to be still. They had sat on the banks of a pond and waited. Counting the breaths she took. Slowly over time her body would become part of its surroundings. The air and the ground speaking to her in their own language. The animals scurrying over her. She could, with time and patience see what they had seen.

Images came into her head. Bright and unwavering like the sun, but smaller and closer. A strange woman in a bright yellow cloak, or coat. A man who knew how to heal. To the creatures of the forest and the hill they smelt wrong. Something in the air around them. They kept away, which annoyed Jannet as it meant she couldn’t see the strangers better. The woman held a magic object in her hands. Of that she was sure. A book of light, as bright as her sun torch.

Jannet opened her eyes. The dark was setting in, she needed to return to her home. She could feel it now, in the air. Something was off. The air, the forest, the hill, they all felt wrong. Like a metallic taste in her mouth.

Returning home she collected wood from behind the house. Placing it in the garden she started a fire. Over the next hour she poked and fed the fire until it was bright enough to be seen deep inside the forest. Those fool playwrights in London thought a magical fire needed strange ingredients, magical words. Old Demdike had taught her that all you needed was good, dry wood.

Staring into the fire she could see them now. The cat with the long teeth, the fierce bear, the wolves that howled at the moon. As well as them was the hare, jumping through the fire, making it reborn and burn brighter. Old Demdike had said all hares were female. Jannet had cut enough open, and paid attention, so she knew that wasn’t true.

As the hare leapt the flames grew higher the smoke reached above the treetops. Jannet knew the strange woman could smell the flames now. She went inside her house. In the larder there was some bacon and carrots. She took out a cooking pot and started making soup.

The smell of the bonfire and the cooking mixed in the air, drifting across the clearing and into the depths of the trees. She could feel the animals waiting. Normally the smells from her cooking would bring them close, but not now. They knew the strangers were close and they watched from a distance.

The footstep fell softly, but as soon as it crossed the border onto her homestead she knew. Jennet went out to the step and watched.

“Mrs Reece, Jenny is that you?” Her voice was from nearby. It came from Lancashire, of the North and the Hills.

“Aye, that will be me,” Jannet knew it was true. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Wren, this is Tom. Don’t you remember us?”

“Not yet,” she got up, “You’ll be here for Jack.” A spot of rain fell on her face.

---

Wren followed the younger Jenny into the house. She exchanged a look with Tom, he just shrugged. There was no point worrying now. “We saw the light from your fire from the top of Beetham Tower.”

The younger Jenny looked back at her. Wren was taken back by her face. The lines were gone, the hair thicker, more full of colour. Her eyes were just as bright as ever.

“What is Beetham Tower?”

“It’s in Manchester.”

“The market? There’s not been a fort that way on a long time.”

No, supposed Wren, there hasn’t. The young Jenny motioned for them to sit at an old wood table.

As Jenny dished soup out into bowls Wren looked around. There were rabbits and pheasants hanging from iron hooks in the ceiling. The walls had been white washed once but the plaster was crumbling now. An ambitious estate agent might describe it as a fixer-upper. They’d be lying.

“You mentioned Jack, is she hear?”

Jenny put two bowls and two hunks of bread down in front of them. “She’ll have smelt the fire,” Wren could see it burning outside as wind and rain beat against the window, “We only have to wait.”

Wren tore off a lump of bread and dipped it into the soup. She hadn’t eaten anything warm in days and it tasted fantastic. Something struck her, “You said Jack could smell the fire.”

“Aye,” Jenny face was full of bread, soup dripping down her chin.

“Can anyone else smell it?” The wind howled like a hungry dog causing the door to rattle. Outside they could see the flames of the fire writhing about, like snakes dancing to a charmer’s tune.

“Where is this place?” Tom asked.

“The forest,” Jenny took another bite of her food.

“Which forest, there are more than one.”

Jenny looked at him funny, “The one by the hill. Your voice is strange, where are you from, the south?”

“I’ve lived in Lancashire for twenty years now,” Tom bristled.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. Your voice is from far away but your shoes have the soil of the hill and the forest on them.” Jenny went back to eating, clearly feeling the discussion was over.

Something changed. Maybe it was the clouds outside, but the room grew darker. Wren leapt up, “There’s someone out there, the other side of the fire.” She pointed and watched their heads turn.

“Jack?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Wren couldn’t see more than a dark figure, maybe two? Both covered in shadow.

“If it’s spirits of the forest then they will need paying,” Jenny got up. Wren and Tom looked at each other. Paid in what?

They followed her outside. The rain whipped them as they drew closer to the fire. Amazingly it still burnt bright. Wren could see there were two figures now. She had to shield her eyes from the flames slightly. Only by squinting could she make them out. A large man in a pinstriped suit and a tall woman with raven black hair.

“My name is Peter Pan, this is my friend Ashley. We’re here to wait for Jack.”

Wren, Tom and Jenny looked at each other. What did they want?

Under the hill Ship and Control woke up.