Consequences: A New Life

Thanks to Robyn Hood and Cressar for all their help with editing and proof reading.

Part 1

Friday night and the unseasonably warm weather has brought even more people than normal on to the Shoreditch streets. Music pumps from bars as relaxed students and hipsters mill around drinking. We have had a good day in the recording studio and it is time for our little team to kick back and chill.

Carly, the twenty four year old whose track we’ve been working on, is excited, telling everyone how amazing it has all been. I remember that kind of excitement back when I started in the business. It’s infectious. We sit at a table spending the label’s money and chatting about shit. I have already texted my wife Julia to let her know not to wait up. It’s been a long hard week and I feel like blowing off some steam.

I co-own the recording company with my business partner Steve. We both came up together in the days when the music industry had money. We saw the way the industry was going and set up our own recording studio/mini label. We provide the artists with the equipment and experience they need and access to distribution. They get creative freedom and professional support; we get low overheads and high turnover. So far it has been pretty successful, although we are nowhere near as big as any of the labels we started with back in the 90s and 00s.

The crowd is thinning as the night goes on. I get a text from Julia saying she is happily tucked up in bed with a good book. I smile; it has been ages since I had the chance to read anything, too many late nights working or boozing. It is just Carly, Steve and me left and Carly wants us to go on to a little club she knows in Bethnal Green. I am up for it but Steve bows out; he has a kid on the way and I think is trying to prove to Sandra, his wife, that he is ready for the responsibility so I don’t push him.

“Shall we go then?” I ask Carly after Steve has left, she says she just needs the toilet so I am left playing with my phone trying not to look like I am on my own. Normally I am pretty good with my own company but something about being the older guy in a bar full of millennials puts me on edge.

She takes a while, girls always do, so my mind wanders to Julia and our decision not to have kids. I know Julia regrets it sometimes, and seeing how excited Steve and Sandra are it does make me wonder. Still, it just isn’t suitable for our lifestyle. Life is about making decisions and dealing with the consequences as my dad might have said had he and mum not been killed in a car crash when I was fourteen.

Carly is back and we are off out the bar. I enjoy seeing the envious looks from the guys as I leave with the hottest girl in the place. Outside the air is just a little cold so I do up my jacket, wishing I had thought to bring a warmer coat. Carly takes my arm and we set off.

We walk down the road past all the happy people. The smell of all the different foods from various take-aways and the bright clothes people are wearing add to the carnival atmosphere.

Then there’s the sound of car wheels screeching and I turn around. A large man in a balaclava is shouting something at me, I hear screaming but everything other than the man seems distant to me. The man is holding something in his hand - too late I realise it’s a gun! He is close, I grab at his face in wild desperation only managing to pull back the bottom half of the balaclava. It reveals a small scar under his chin. There is a loud noise and then everything goes blank.

I wake up feeling like I have the worst hangover in my lifetime. My head is swimming and my insides burn, to add to that it feels like someone is shoving two fingers down my throat.

I try to open my eyes but can only see a blur of colours. A green shape is moving around. I slowly come to recognise the blob as a person. I try to call out but something is stopping me from speaking, all I can do is grunt and gurgle. I start to panic realising that there really is something stuck down my throat. I am too weak to move more than a little but I try to shout, but again it comes out as faint noises.

The green blob moves closer, I feel a soft hand on my forehead that starts to gently caress me. She is saying something but it sounds like I am listening to her while under water.

My eyesight comes back slowly. The green blob becomes a woman in green scrubs. So I am in hospital. What the hell has happened to me? The woman leans over me checking my pillows. She seems like a giant, must be my perspective. I spy a name badge on her chest; it says ‘Nurse Porter’.

The sound is still muffled but I can just about make out what she is saying.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you are safe, but you’ve been through some major surgery,” she must see the frightened look on my face, “but you will be OK now.”

Fuck, what happened? I try to say something but again can only make the faintest of sounds.

“Are you in any pain?” she asks me.

My throat is burning, my head pounding and I don’t seem to be able to move my legs and arms much, all I can do is nod my head yes.

“That’s OK, I’ll increase your dosage,” I watch as the nurse reaches up to adjust something above my head. Almost immediately I start to feel sleepy again.

“Don’t worry honey,” she strokes my forehead pushing a long strand of hair out of my face (how long have I been here for? My hair was never this long), “you sleep, things will be better when you wake up.”

As I drift off I see two faces watching me from behind a glass screen, perhaps it is the drugs but I think one of them looks like Julia.

I wake again, this time my head is clearer. The room is quiet and dark, from the stillness I guess it must be the middle of the night. I try to move but my body is still unresponsive. I try to speak but there is still something stuck down my throat.

It is then that I realise that I am not alone in the room, to my right someone stirs in a chair. Whoever it is gets up and comes over to me. From the silhouette I can tell it’s a woman, but she seems huge! The woman gets closer and then her face is hit by moonlight; thank God, it’s Julia! Her beautiful face is creased with concern and lack of sleep.

“Hello sweetheart, are you OK?”

I try to nod to let her know I am fine but it hurts to do so and I visibly wince in pain.

“Oh love, stay still,” she rests a hand on my arm reassuring me, “I’ll go and get Doctor Fields and Inspector Patil.”

I nod my head in agreement and watch as she dashes out of the room. A light automatically illuminates the corridor casting long shadows into the room. I can now see that I am in a private room in a hospital somewhere. There are a number of tubes and wires connected to me, which scares me shitless. I try to calm myself down until Julia returns with the doctor. Who is this Inspector Patil? What happened to me, why are the police involved?

Suddenly the light in the room is turned on and I am temporally blinded. The next thing I know three figures loom over me. Julia I recognise, next to her is a tired looking man somewhere in his late fifties. He wears blue scrubs, I assume he must be Doctor Fields. Behind them is a South Asian woman in her early 30s wearing a business suit. I guess she is this mysterious inspector.

The man talks to me, “Hello, it is good to have you back with us,” he smiles at me and I feel Julia squeezing my hand trying to reassure me. I wonder if the drugs are still having an effect on my hearing, I try to say something forgetting that I can’t.

“Please don’t try to speak,” the doctor smiles warmly at me, “the tube in your throat has been feeding you for the last month,” I’ve been here a whole month!

He must be able to see how worried I look, “don’t worry,” he says in his best ‘reassuring doctor’s’ voice, “your body has been through a major trauma but you are going to be OK now. We can discuss what this fully means once you are more awake, but I think for now it would be best if you take baby steps.”

I nod my head, there’s so much to take in.

“Great,” he smiles again, “I am going to ask you a few questions; can you answer me by blinking once for yes and twice for no?”

I nod my head in agreement and then blink my eyes once. The doctor asks me a series of questions about how I am feeling and if I feel any sensation in my body. He notes down my answers on a clipboard and seems happy with my signalled responses. After about ten minutes he gets up as if to leave.

“Thank you Mark, that’s been a big help,” he smiles. He then turns to Julia and the detective, “OK you can have some time with her.” He turns to look directly at the detective, telling her to be careful and that I need a lot of rest. I notice something weird, he keeps using ‘her’ and ‘she’ in reference to me. He must really be tired.

The three of them start talking but my head is swimming and I don’t take anything in. Finally he turns back to me, “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes with a nurse to take that tube out of your mouth and give you something to help you sleep,” then he turns and leaves.
The next thing I know the two women are standing either side of me. The detective speaks, “Mark, I am sorry about this you must have many questions,” I nod my head and turn to look at Julia, she rubs my arm reassuring me a little. I can’t understand why my arm looks so small next to her hand? Inspector Patil continues, “Can I ask you Mark, do you remember anything about how you got here?”

I close my eyes to think; somewhere in my head I hear a loud noise and remember a sharp pain followed by coldness. My body convulses and I feel Julia holding onto my arm. It is only now that I realise that I have been strapped down to the bed.

“It’s going to be OK,” Julia soothes me, I am glad she is here. She sees my distress as I pull at my restraints. “The body is very weak, they’re there to stop you falling and hurting yourself,” she reassures me.

“Mark, I am sorry to have to tell you this, but you were shot.” Inspector Patil continues, “We believe the man who shot you was after someone else, the partner of the woman you were with. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

An image comes to mind of Carly’s sweet young face contorted in fear.

“I can see it is difficult for you Mark,” Patil sounds sympathetic but business like.

Julia cuts in, “Deepa,” I guess this is Patil’s first name, “we don’t have to talk about it now, can’t you see he’s traumatised.” She sounds annoyed with her.

“No,” Deepa talks slowly and cautiously, “we can come back to that when you are ready Mark, but we do need to talk about the repercussions of what has happened and of what we need to do to protect you.”

I blink my eyes once.

“Good, now Mark have you heard of the New Body programme?” Deepa keeps the same slow, cautious tone, like she’s a teacher explaining a difficult concept to a pupil.

I blink my eyes once, of course I’ve heard of it, the medical marvel of the age. Doctors that can grow new limbs, organs, even sections of the brain for the severely brain damaged. Half organic, half tech these limbs and hearts are extending and improving life for thousands. They can even create whole new bodies that can be controlled remotely for work in dangerous professions, like mining or in highly radio-active environments. They are semi-autonomous organic robots.

“Well don’t panic, your original body is safe and being repaired as we speak. However, we did have to take a drastic measure, both to save your from the trauma your body has suffered, and to protect you,” she stops and takes a deep breath, “this is not knowledge we normally share with the public, but the government has been able to develop a technique where we can place an individual, their essence, their brain wave patterns and memories into a new, specially grown body.”

I start to panic, I mean what the hell? Am I now in Frankenstein’s monster?

She must see how terrified I look, “As I say don’t panic, you can return to your body as soon as this is over, however we have had to create a new identity for you. Sadly the gunman and his likely associates are still on the run and as long as they are, you are a target.”

I hear Julia starting to cry, I look at her but she has to look away. Deepa presses on,.

“The process of growing a new body is a very long one and we didn’t have much time. People have to be matched to bodies that fit their brainwave patterns. Normally this means someone of a similar age, body size and, err… gender. But with you it was a little different.”

I nod, feeling numb to the shock. Where is this going?

“You are in the only body we had that fitted you, this is your cover and we need you to keep to it for your own safety. Do you understand?”

I blink my eyes once, noticing that tears have started to form.

“Your wife, myself, my team and Doctor Fields who will be keeping an eye on you medically speaking all know your true identity. As far as the rest of the world is concerned you are Emma Riley, the fifteen year old daughter of Julia Riley.”

She looks over at my wife who is also crying; Julia’s maiden name is Riley, so I guess that’s why they have used it,

“We have set you both up with new identities that should keep you safe until this has been sorted. But you must remember to keep to them at all times; you don’t know who you can trust. These men are part of a gang that traffic in people, exploiting the most desperate and needy, they wont hesitate to have you killed if they get the chance.”

I lie there in silence, unable to take it all in.

“Deepa,” Julia asks, “should I let him see?”

Deepa looks uncertain for a moment, but finally says, “I guess so, we don’t really have time to wait for it to sink in.”

Julia produces a small compact mirror from her handbag, it is the old one with a blue plastic rim she has been using since we started dating all those years ago. She opens it and lifts it to my face. I try to pull back but the straps are too tight.

“Mark, you need to see,” Julia says with conviction. I force my eyes to stay open. For a moment I don’t know what I am seeing but slowly I take it in. Looking back at me is the fresh face of a teenage girl. She has bright green eyes and long dark brown hair.

I stare at her for several minutes watching her breathe as I do, then I blank out.

Later that day, when the hospital is more awake and the tubes have been taken out Julia and Nurse Porter help me out of bed and over to a bigger mirror. This time I am more prepared for what I see. A teenage girl, thirteen at the youngest, fifteen at the oldest. Comparing myself to Judy and the nurse I’d put my height at about 5ft 3inches, 160cm, a little short for my new age. She is a skinny thing as well, maybe 7 or 8 stone (51 kg) tops. It feels weird after years of coming to terms with my growing middle-aged spread.

The face is pretty but looks sad, although that might just be right now. The eyes are big and round, a little up turned nose and lips that seem to be pouting. I’d have definitely hit on me when I was her age. For a moment I wonder who they made the body for originally. This is going to take some getting used to.

It is over a week later and Deepa is showing us around our new flat. It is much bigger than our place in London with two reasonably sized bedrooms. The main bedroom has an en suite bathroom as well. The second has a single bed, even though it is big enough for a double. It is decorated for a teenager with band posters everywhere. I recognise the Stone Roses, Belle and Sebastian and the guy from the Artic Monkeys, the others are newer bands and I’m less sure about them, although there seems to be a few too many skinny guys with floppy hair for my comfort.

“We tried to pick things based on your own tastes, with just a few adjustments. If you look in the wardrobe you’ll find plenty of clothes in your new size. I open the doors and see various different things. I am pleased to see there are plenty of pairs of jeans although when I get to the school uniform stuff I am disappointed to find only skirts.

“This must have cost a lot,” I say, my voice still hoarse from my stay in hospital.

“The gang who attacked you have links to supplying terrorists, there’s always a bigger budget where terrorism is involved,” Deepa explains as I run my fingers over a collection of grey cotton school skirts.

I sigh, school isn’t something I am looking forward to but Deepa says we have to act as normally as possible so as not to attract attention. She has found Julia work with a local law firm who have worked with Deepa’s team before. They don’t know about our situation, just that Deepa is helping us out with a new start.

“You can always buy some new stuff of course,” says Deepa a little nervously. I huff. This is a sore point. I can’t access my accounts because they can be traced leaving me dependent on pocket money from Julia.

“So, you are expecting me to sleep in here,” I say uncertainly.

“Oh no,” Deepa says, “I assume you two still want to sleep in the same bed,” she looks between both of us and we nod agreement, “you just need to keep this bedroom in case anyone comes over.”

It makes sense. We go to the living room to go through paper work and discuss arrangements. Deepa talks mainly to Julia, maybe seeing her subconsciously as the ‘adult’, so my mind wanders. Our flat is on the top floor of a five-story building. One wall is made up mostly by a large window looking out over the city. I can see the tall towers of the city centre and think how much Manchester has changed since Julia and I grew up here. I know Deepa thinks it is a good idea to relocate to somewhere we know, but it feels like a step back in time in so many different ways.

First day of school and I’m feeling the fear. My days of hanging around the flat and reading are over. I’ve read more in the last two weeks than I did over the last year. Julia tried to get me to go out but I haven’t been able to make myself. Today I have to.

I look at myself in the big mirror in our bedroom. The black skirt isn’t short, which I am grateful for, but it does feel tight and restrictive. Julia says it is probably for the best; it’ll stop me sitting with my legs wide open and giving the boys a show. That doesn’t make me feel any better.

The blouse and jumper are a little too large, which is good as they hide my figure a little. I know only too well how horny teenage boys are. I am getting a little insight into how dads of teenage girls must feel, knowing the sort of things the boys are thinking about their daughters. Only I am the daughter they will be perving over.

Oh well, no time like the present, at least the school day ends by 3:30pm. I haven’t had so much free time since I was at Uni. I put on the duffel coat Julia bought for me and lift my bag over my shoulder, noticing the weight much more in this small body.

“I’m off,” I shout into the living room where Julia is still getting her things together.

Julia comes hurrying out into the corridor, “Don’t you want me to drop you off?” she asks looking surprised. She is holding a triangle of toast in one hand and pile of papers in the other. She started her job about two weeks ago and is already in the thick of it.

“No,” I smile, trying to look cheerful, “don’t worry about it. The school is only about fifteen minutes away, anyway you know the kids who get dropped off by their parents get picked on,” I joke.

“Come here,” she says, “you’re taking this very well.”

It doesn’t feel like it.

“Well I don’t really have any choice, there’s some bad people out there who want to hurt me, and maybe you as well. And I have to admit,” I gesture at my body with both hands, “this is pretty much the best disguise there is.”

Julia laughs and kisses me on the lips to say goodbye. It feels strange, even though we have been sleeping in the same bed since we came here but there has been no sex. I am not sure which of us is more freaked out by my new body.

The weather is still mild and my coat and jumper feel too hot for walking. Around me the other school kids run and shout, greeting each other after their summer holidays. Deepa thinks it is a stroke of luck that I am starting at the beginning of the academic year. I am hoping it will help hide me in the crowd.

First I have to go to the school office where I am greeted by a middle-aged woman. She seems busy and tells me to sit on one of the plastic chairs lined up just outside the office. I sit there feeling very small watching other pupils walk by. They all seem to be in groups making me feel even more alone. Through the sliding glass panel to the office I can hear the secretary discussing her holidays with her colleagues.

I glance at my phone and see I have been waiting for more than twenty minutes. I cross my legs feeling the plastic against the bare skin of my legs. I make a mental note to wear tights tomorrow.

After about another ten minutes a teacher appears. He stands over me making me feel very small.
“You must be Emma,” he says smiling kindly. He looks an unlikely teacher with broad shoulders and a figure that suggest exercise and a more outdoor type of life.

I say a meek little ‘hi’ and he introduces himself as Mr Dixon, the deputy head and then tells me to come with him. I follow behind feeling like a little dog, he keeps telling me about the different classrooms as we walk but I can only focus on all the eyes of the students that fall on me as we pass

Finally we reach a door with EL03 in silver letters on it. Below them is a laminated card that says ‘Mr Hulse’.

“This is your form room,” he says. His kind smile does little to reassure me. Inside, the room is already half full of chattering teenagers. Most of them stop talking when I enter and eye me up. I was never the most popular person at school being something of a music/art geek. The feelings I had back then of being watched and judged come swimming back.

Mr Dixon introduces me to Mr Hulse who is a slim fresh faced man who doesn’t look old enough to be a teacher to my thirty something mind. He has started growing a wispy beard, I wonder if he is trying to look older?

The two talk for a moment and then Mr Hulse offers me a card with my lessons and rooms written on it. I look down at it but it doesn’t mean much to me right now.

“Looks like you’ll be in my set for English on Wednesdays and Fridays,” he says smiling at me then he turns to one of the girls sitting nearest to us, “Jessie,” he says, “can you show Emma around to her lessons today?”

Jessie looks at me like I’m something that’s just crawled out from the sewers. I notice she is wearing a little make up.

“But sir,” she starts, but is cut off my Mr Hulse.
“No ‘buts’ Jessie,” he says, “I think the responsibility will do you good. And I’ll write you a note explaining why you are late to lessons.”

This last part seems to make Jessie a little happier.

“Thanks sir,” she says with some real feeling, “Emma, you can come and sit with us if you like,” she follows less convincingly.

I go sit down on the edge of their table and Mr Dixon leaves, Mr Hulse going back to his lesson plan. Jessie turns back to her friends excluding me from the conversation.

The bell rings and the rest of the students file in. As each pupil comes in they look me over, making me feel like an exhibit in a zoo. One girl stands out. She is tall and skinny, giving the impression of sharp edges especially at her cheekbones. Her fingers are long and slim as she runs them through her hair, which is short at the back and sides and a mass of curls on top. Unlike the other girls in the class she is wearing trousers rather than a skirt. She looks daggers at Jessie and her friends but gives me a more curious look.

As this new girl walks past Jessie whispers to her friend, “Poppy’s even taller than before, she’s turning into a man!” they start to giggle until Jessie notices Mr Hulse looking directly at her.

“Sorry sir,” she mutters.
I see Poppy glaring at Jessie, she catches my eye and I give her a sympathetic little smile. When we leave the form room for our first lessons I notice Poppy giving me an interested look.

Jessie drops me outside my next classroom for Geography and tells me she’ll meet me outside our form room during break. I doubt very much that I’ll see her again today.

In the first of my classes I find a seat at the back where I am not overlooked. The teacher is talking about the average rainfall in the Amazon and I am happy to stare out of the window watching the world go by. During break I go stand outside the form room but see nothing of Jessie and her friends. I am neither surprised nor am I that upset. I do wonder what Jessie has in mind for the pass Mr Hulse gave her?

The morning passes slowly and lunch is an odd ordeal where I go find a quiet spot to eat my sandwiches. After eating I go outside and watch some kids messing about with skateboards behind what I am told is the science building. As I watch them I wonder if I could ever be part of this world again, or if there is too much of a gulf of time and experience between us.

After lunch is art where I am put on a table with two boys and a girl. The first boy introduces himself as Peter, who is quietly spoken but friendly, he has long limbs that remind me of pipe cleaners and broad shoulders. The other boy, Ian, immediately starts checking me out and seems transfixed when I take my blue school jumper off half way through the class. The girl is called Freddie and seems nice, but doesn’t talk much. She has a streak of purple in her hair that stands out against her otherwise quiet persona. Through most of the lesson Peter makes us all laugh describing the different teachers and their faults. Only Mr Hulse gets his respect, as apparently he lent Peter a copy of Watchmen by Alan Moore. With the exception of maths the classes seem pretty easy. In maths I realise just how much I forgotten despite having run my own company for ten years.

I arrive home around four that afternoon feeling knackered. Maybe it is this body, but it feels like I’ve had a sensory overload. I am not surprised that Julia isn’t home yet to I go slump on the sofa. I turn on the TV and let my brain slowly process everything from the day.

It felt odd to be back in a High School as one of the kids. Everything and everyone seemed so big, I am sure I can’t be the smallest in the year, but it feels that way. I tried telling myself that I was much to old to be intimidated by school kids, but that is easier to believe when you are over six foot and don’t have to spend your whole day with the buggers.

Around five-ish I get a text from Julia saying she has to stay late to meet a client and that I should help myself to the leftovers in the fridge. I just shrug my shoulders and hope they aren’t working her too hard. I go change into my pyjamas, Deepa bought me two sets one pink, one blue, both Hello Kitty. I can’t say I am fond of them but at least they are comfortable. Anyway no one is going to see me in them apart from Julia and she understands.

After eating a light tea (my stomach is much smaller now) I go read in bed. I am already snoozing when Julia comes in sometime around ten. I hear the TV go on in the living room but don’t get up. She’d only make me talk about my day and I don’t think I’m ready to face that yet. I fall back asleep and I’m only half aware when she comes to bed. She kisses me on the ear and wishes me sweet dreams then turns over.

Tuesday comes and I find myself in hot water. Jessie and her gaggle of friends give me dirty looks when I walk in to the form room. I hear them whispering and glancing over at me but I have no idea why. The room quietens down when Mr Hulse comes in. I am starting to notice how the kids look up to him, even Jessica and her gang of mean girls.

As Mr Hulse reads the register I contemplate what I could have done but I can’t figure it out. As the room empties Jessica and her friends push by me showing open hostility.

After they leave Poppy comes over to me, “You better watch out, Jessie and her fan club don’t like you,” she whispers.

“What did I do?” I say indignantly.

“Nothing, she was caught using the note Hulse gave you to skive, now she thinks you told on her.”

“What!” Poppy walks off as I’m left to contemplate the unfairness that is my life.

For the first half of the day I spend my time trying to avoid the groups of girls that wander around the school. Maybe I am paranoid but they all seem to be whispering about me.

At lunch things only get worse. I get there late as I had biology and the science building is one of the furthest from the lunch hall. There are not many places left to sit. There’s a couple of chairs at the back but the tables around them are taken by the football club lads. They are being loud and throwing things around and, although I hate to admit it, they physically intimidate me. I am sure none of them would hurt me on purpose but I fear getting caught by a misjudged arm or something. The only other seat is on a table taken up by year 11 and year 12 girls. I notice Jessie amongst them, but she’s at the other end from the empty seat. It looks like most of them are nearly finished anyway so if I sit down and keep quiet they will be gone soon anyway.

As I come closer I can hear the whispers and am left in no doubt they are aimed at me.

“What’s up with her skirt, is she a nun?” I catch. I have no choice now, to change direction would be to lose face and there is no way I am going to let a bunch of teenage girls make me back down. I have as much right to that seat as anyone. I put my tray down on the table and make eye contact with Jessie, letting her know I’m not scared of her. As soon as my bum hits the chair though they all rise up and leave the table.

I am sat there knowing exactly how this looks as the girls walk off not even looking at me. My ears burned red as I realise the whole room is looking at me. There is not much I can do, but I am determined not to show any hurt. I reach into my bag, pull out a book and make like I am reading, although in reality I am just keeping my eyes down trying not to look at anyone.

The rest of the day is horrible, I have to go round the school not knowing who is talking about me. Later I pass Poppy and Peter in the corridor, both of whom are laughing but stop when they see me coming past. I get the feeling Poppy wants to say something but she freezes up as I get closer. I wonder if they are laughing at me as well.

Julia surprises me by picking me up after school. She is leaning on the car provided for us by the relocation unit, waving at me as I walk through the school gates. I feel my face getting hot as I realise the other kids are watching me. I don’t see Jessie but I imagine this will get back to her.

“Get in, kiddo,” Julia points to the passenger side.

“Cool it… mum,” I say in a hushed voice. Only my cover stops me from saying more.

Once we are in the car Julia turns to me, “I thought I’d treat you honey,” she smiles.

“Really?” I wonder what she means; perhaps we are going for a meal? She seems excited, it nice to see her like this. She’s looked weighed down by stress since I came out of hospital.

“Yeah, I thought we could go shopping,” Julia is grinning; she clearly thinks this is a huge thing for me.

“Err, yeah OK,” I don’t want to disappoint her, “not sure how this is a treat for me though...”

Shopping has always been a way for Julia to unwind. Not that she is a logo crazy type. Her job as a lawyer in London is stressful with long hours but it does have the compensation of being well paid. I think being able to quantify those long meetings with ego crazy clients in terms of buying this or that was one of her ways of getting through. I certainly didn’t judge her for it.

“Wait till you see where we’re shopping,” she smiles at me with a wicked grin.

I try to get more out of her on the drive in but Julia stays tight lipped. We park in the Arndale car park, not the most promising start. The Arndale is a shopping Mall in the city centre made up of your standard high-street brand shops. Apart from a bizarre painting of Winston Churchill (who used to be a member of parliament for Greater Manchester), Wayne Rooney and Rio Ferdinand (both Manchester United footballers) there’s little to say it is in Manchester and not any other place in Britain or Ireland.

Julia leads me through the corridors and out onto Market Street ignoring my questions about our destination. She pauses about halfway down the pedestrian street and takes my hand. I look at her speechlessly as she winks and drags me into the Ann Summers shop.

For those who don’t know, Ann Summers is a high street shop in the UK that sells sexy lingerie, sex toys and costumes. Its success is built on being aimed at women customers rather than a shady male-orientated sex shop.

“What the hell…” I mutter as we walk through the door.

A female shop assistant looks at us directly, she seems a little startled. We must look like an odd couple.

“My niece,” Julia says, the shop assistant still looks at us mutely, “just turned seventeen last weekend,” Julia offers by way of explanation. The assistant looks me up and down as if to show she’s not convinced I am seventeen but doesn’t put up a fight.

We pretend to be looking at a rack of relatively tame underwear near the front of the shop until she goes away.

“Go up to the things you want me to wear for you tonight and touch them like this,” Julia lays her hand lightly on a pink bra close to her, “then come back when you re finished.”

I mouth ‘thank you’ to her as I set off. First I go over to the costume section. All the usual favourites are there, a naughty nurse, sexy policewoman etc. There’s a mermaid outfit I think about for a second; however, in my albeit limited experience these types of costumes tend to be fine in fantasy but cumbersome in reality.

I move over to the lingerie section turning my head to make sure Julia is watching. She is making like she is extremely interested in a see-through nightie but I can tell her eyes are following me. I let my hand lie gently on a black lace push up bra. I look up to check she’s noticed, I see that she has.

Slowly I move around the shop touching matching lace panties, suspender belt and nylons. I don’t look up now, I am sure Julia is watching me. Finally I come to a pair of handcuffs. I look for a moment at the silver metal reflecting the lights of the shop then I tough it gently. I know Julia is less keen on the bondage thing than I am, but seeing as it is my treat I think I can push it a little.

After a while I wander back to Julia who is looking at me slyly.

“Done?” she asks. I just nod my head.

“Good,” she lowers her voice, “Go across the road and wait for me in Topshop.” I turn to leave but she grabs my arm

“I want you to have picked out a bra and knickers set by the time I join you.”

I look at her in the eyes wondering if I should protest. I decide not to; she is doing this for me so I owe her a little leeway.

I pick out a light blue matching bra and knickers as quickly as I can, not wanting to break our contract. I feel a fool carrying them around but no one looks at me as if it’s strange. Ten minutes go pass and there’s no sign of Julia. I stick near the front of the shop not wanting us to miss and have to wander around the shop for longer than necessary. Unfortunately the front is taken up with a display of winter skirts and dresses. I have to pretend I am really interested in a selection of wiggle dresses.

A group of teenagers enter the shop. I recognise them as sixth formers from the college next to my school. One of the boys, tall with messy hair, looks over at me. As our eyes meet and he smiles unselfconsciously at me. I feel my face getting red with embarrassment realising I am clutching a bra and knickers in one hand and holding up a pink wiggle dress in the other. The boy doesn’t seem to mind and just turns back to his friend as if he hasn’t seen me in the first place.

It is almost another twenty minutes before Julia appears. What the hell took her so long? She is carrying a discreet black bag; it looks heavier than I’d have expected given the flimsiness of the items I picked out for her. Still, I am not complaining and anyway, these things always come with a crazy amount of packaging.

“Hello love,” she says breathlessly. I see that the cold weather has brought out the rosiness of her cheeks.

“Hi,” I say slightly sulkily, “what took you so long?”

“There were a few people in front of me,” she just smiles not explaining any further.

“Can we go?” I ask, keen to get to use the contents of her bag, “I got what you asked for,” holding up the underwear.

“Not just yet darling,” Julia says firmly, “we still need to buy you some more clothes.”

Julia proceeds to drag me around the shop putting various items against my body for comparison. I know Julia has always dreamed of having a daughter to share moments like this with her. I guess this is the deal for what comes next so I try my best to discuss the merits of various skirts, dresses and tops. After about half an hour I finally get out of there, carrying a bag which includes the bra and knickers, a pair of jean shorts and several pairs of warm tights.

Back home Julia tells me she is going to the bedroom and that I should go wait in the living room. Eagerly I agree, it has been so long! After about ten minutes she comes out of the bedroom wearing a yellow lace nightie, her hair all done up in an updo. I am surprised; she is wearing something she has owned for few years now.

“Come to the bedroom,” she says in her most seductive voice, a voice she knows drives me crazy.

I follow as she leads. I am not used to her taking control so much but I have to say I like it. She opens the bedroom door to reveal the little scene she has arranged.

On the bed all the clothes we bought arranged carefully with the stockings at the bottom and a pair of black opera gloves on either side (I don’t remember picking them).

“Get undressed,” she tells me. I am uncertain; is she going to dress up once I am naked?

While I am undressing Julia goes to a drawer by the bed and retrieves a number of items. She places the handcuffs on the bed.

Naked I look at her expectantly - what next? “Are you going to put them on now?”
She smiles mischievously.

“These?” she indicates what’s on the bed.

“Yes,” I say uncertainly.

“Don’t you think they are a little small for me?” I notice a look of uncertainty in her smile that she hides when she realises I can see.

I look at the items on the bed. It is true, they do seem small, but then again women’s things always seem so inconsequential when they are not being worn.

“These are for you,” she says, her wicked grin back. I try to say something but she puts a finger over my mouth warning me to stop. “After all my love, you are the one with the body for them now.”

I know she is making an effort, and I’d really like to have sex. Just not as the girl.

“Isn’t it a little humiliating?” I say more to myself. I realise almost immediately that I have said the wrong thing.

“Listen,” the sharpness in her voice, “if you expect me to wear things like this in the future you are going to have to show you are willing to do the same.”

I gulp, this is hard. I pick the knickers up feeling the smooth, shiny material in my hand. I look at her, she seems determined but I detect a flicker of doubt. She continues to watch as I fumble around with the bra, I am doing my best to look sexy but I’m pretty certain I don’t. I roll the stockings up my legs, first left then right. Here at least I am on safer ground having watch Julia do this many times. Once they are connected to the suspender belt I lay back on the bed.

Julia shakes her head, “No, lie forward,” she says. Not knowing what else to do I comply. Our bed is new but made to look like one of those Victorian metal beds. There is a long black bar running the length of the foot of the bed.

Instinctively I reach out grasping the bar with both hands. Julia comes round and handcuffs my wrists, looping the chain around the bar. It is for effect and I know I can pull free if I need to. She looks me in the eyes as she does it, the effect is erotic and I am warming to this idea. Her mouth quivers for a second like she wants to say something, then she gets up and moves around behind me.

My body braces itself waiting for something to happen, but it doesn’t. Anticipation builds then fades away. I try to turn to see what is happening but then I feel the weight of Julia sitting down on the bed next to me, then I hear crying.

“Oh Mark, I am so sorry but I can’t,” I try to turn to face her but I can’t move enough.

“What’s up love?” I try to sound comforting but my voice just sounds squeaky.

“It’s… it’s you,” she breathes in holding back a sob, “I mean it’s your body, the one you are in. I am not a lesbian, and even if I was ...” she bursts into tears again.

I try to break free but the handcuffs are surprisingly tight.

“I know it is hard love, can’t you just forget about it and think of me, the real me I mean?” As I speak I intensify my efforts to break free but it only seems to make matters worse.

She comes around to the front of me and starts to help me with the silk. Looking me in the eyes she says, “you know I never liked your sex games, even before.” Her voice is conversational, not confrontational.

“I was just trying to stoke the fires a little,” I had, in the past, encouraged Julia to try out a few things. Nothing extreme, a few costumes, very mild bondage.
“The problem is,” Julia looks a little more miffed now, “when we have sex like that, it’s…” her voice trails off for a moment, “it’s like you are having sex with the fantasy, not me.”

“I have never thought of it like that,” I say honestly. The truth is that I had thought she might be losing interest in me and had wanted to make our sex life more exciting. “I am sorry,” I say looking straight at her.

“Good God,” she says, the tears have stopped and she’s grinning a little, “those Bambi eyes of yours,” she looks away, “you should remember them, they’ll get you out of trouble in the future,” she laughs a snotty laugh.

“I am getting nowhere with these handcuffs,” I say rather pathetically.

She squeezes my hand saying, “Wait here, I’ll get the keys. I think I left the bag in the living room.”

I am left lying there for what seems like ages feeling a complete div.

That night we cuddle (me back in those damn Hello Kitty PJs). Julia falls asleep holding me in her arms. I think about slipping out to the spare room for a wank as I am in desperate need of some release. Her arms are much bigger and stronger than mine now and the only way I can break out is by waking her. I lay awake for a long time watching the grey shadows on the ceiling. I wonder how much longer I’ll be like this, a week, two, a month, maybe longer?

Things come to a head with Jessie the following day. We are each assigned lockers near our different form rooms for keeping bags etc in. It seems like a very American thing to me; I don’t remember us having them my first time round. I open up my locker door planning on stashing my PE kit there till I need it in the afternoon, on the bottom of the locker is a folded up piece of paper. I open it up and read:

“Die, no one likes you.”

I stare at it for a moment, thinking how stupid and absurd it is. I find myself having to blink back tears. I didn’t ask for any of this why can’t they just leave me alone? My whole life has gone and now I’m supposed to put up with this bollocks as well. I ball my fists in anger. Somewhere behind me I can hear laughter. I slam my locker shut and swing around behind me catching Jessie with a smug look on her face. My blood boils as I march over to her.

“Hey little girl, what is up with…” she stops as I punch her right in the face. She isn’t ready for it and is knocked off her feet. Her friends look shocked but I hear more than one or two people cheering and laughing.

Walking back to class from the deputy heads office I feel a sense of moral vindication. Although I got it in the ear, it was Jessie who was left squirming when I showed Mr Dixon the note. She claimed ignorance but was read the riot act and reminded about the school’s zero tolerance for bullying. Mr Dixon said he’d call both our parents but I am pretty sure Julia will see it my way.

My next lesson is English and when I enter the classroom everyone stops and looks. Mr Hulse tells me to go sit down; the only chair is next to Poppy who smiles at me as I go to sit down.

“But sir, she’s mental, she punched Jessie,” says a wiry girl with a face like a smacked arse who I’ve seen hanging around with Jessie before.

“Chantal, I doubt Emma is the first person in the class to want to do that to Jessica,” he looks over and gives me a wry smile, “I am only proud that it has taken so long for someone to break.”

Chantal looks scandalised but I hear a murmur of laughter from the class. I sit down next to Poppy and pull out my books. When the class gets back into full flow Poppy leans towards me and whispers, “That was bloody amazing,” making me smile. A few minutes later Chantal throws a screwed up piece of paper at us while Mr Hulse’s back is turned. With a sigh I open it.

“Mental Mickey loves the Dyke,” it reads (although she’s spelt dyke ‘dike’).

I turn to Poppy, “I’m guessing I’m ‘Mental Mickey’ then?”.

“Well, I’ve been ‘The Dyke’ since Halloween last year when I was outed for looking up Ellie Rodger’s Powder Puff Girl costume,” Poppy shrugs.

“Are you really gay?” I ask stupidly.

“As they come,” she says with a patient look on her face, “are you?”

I blush but I am not sure why, “To be perfectly honest with you I am not sure what I am,” I answer honestly.

Later when I get back to the flat I find Julia already home.

“What the hell have you been up to?” she says in that measured, controlled anger, voice she uses to let me know I’m in trouble.

“Err,” it takes me a moment to catch on that they must have called her at work about my fight, “Sorry,” I try.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do young lady.”

This is an extended version of the one I posted last month. Thanks to Robyn Hood and Cressar for the support and proof reading!

Part 2

The examination with Doctor Fields couldn’t be more embarrassing. He’s come up to Manchester especially and has been given an office at the Manchester Royal Infirmary just for this purpose. I suppose I should feel special, but all I do feel is the cold plastic of a chair against my bare bum as I sit here in the inadequate gown they gave me.

I have already gone through the indignity of blood and urine tests, as well as a short physical in a weird little gym. The worst part was the nurse chatting away to me like I was a real teenage girl. She asked me if I had a boyfriend yet and, when I answered that I wasn’t really in to all that, she just gave me a knowing look and said, “It won’t be long now,” before changing the subject.

Julia sits next to me trying to be positive. She talks about what we are going to have for our tea, what’s on TV this evening; I barely hear any of it.

“Don’t sit like that with your arms crossed,” she whispers.

“Huh?” I grunt unappreciatively.

“Holding your arms like that pushes your breasts up and out,” Julia says calmly.

I can see a little smile on her face as I quickly drop my arms by my side. All I can do is sit here watching the medical staff go by. I wonder how many of them know about me. I have never felt smaller or more vulnerable, towered over even by the other women, with a breeze coming under my gown.

Eventually Doctor Fields comes out of the office they have assigned him and invites us in. I wonder what could have been keeping him; as far as I know I’m the only patient he is seeing up here.

After we have taken a seat and Julia and the Doctor have exchanged the usual nothings about the weather and traffic he turns to me.

“So Mark, how have you been?”

There seems so much I could talk about; Jessie and her gang, having to live as a sexless roommate with my own wife but, being British, I reply, “Fine thanks.”

“Good,” he says nodding like I’ve imparted some great wisdom. “You haven’t experienced anything unusual?” I look at him and he laughs, “Apart from the obvious.”

His acknowledgement of the situation I am in breaks the ice a little.

“No, I don’t think so,” I answer. I notice Julia looking a little uncomfortable, but she doesn’t say anything.

“So no mood swings, nothing like that?”

“No…” I start, but Julia cuts in.

“Well actually, you have been a little moody,” she says, not looking at me directly.

“Of course I have.” I look between them - their expressions are grave. “You’d be ‘a little moody’ if you found yourself in a completely strange body!” I realise I’ve raised my voice and I catch them exchanging glances.

“Of course you have been through a major change, Mark, we’d be very surprised if it had no effect on your emotional state.” His voice is slow and professional, calming me down. “You also need to be aware that your brain and your body are still getting used to each other. Your brain will have to adjust to the new signals your body is sending.”

“It won’t need to get used to it,” I realise I am crossing my arms again and quickly drop my hands into my lap, “because I’m not going to be in this body for much longer.”

“No, quite,” I don’t like the note of uncertainty in his voice, “but until you are ready to change back we do need to take good care of you.”

“Hmph,” I assent grudgingly.

“Do you think all this could explain the recent reckless behaviour we discussed over the phone?” Julia addresses the doctor; again she can’t look straight at me. They’ve been discussing me over the phone!

“I think that sounds very likely,” Doctor Fields says, speaking directly to Julia.

“Is there anything we can do?” It’s as though I’m not even in the room.

“Well I wouldn’t worry too much,” he says, turning to look at me, “I think we are in the transition period right now. Once the body and mind have had time to match up I think this little problem will resolve itself.”

I don’t like the sound of my body and mind ‘matching up’ as he puts it. My mind is expecting the body of a 36 year old man and I’m pretty happy with that.

“Could you get up on the bed here?” he asks, indicating one of those mechanical hospital beds they use in examining rooms. I do as he says, just wanting this to be over. “Now, could you lie back on the bed for me?” I notice two metal stirrups protruding from the bottom of the bed but don’t think much of them. This must be the women’s health section of the hospital.

“OK Mark, please could you put a foot in each stirrup?” Doctor Fields asks, I notice his voice has taken a detached, professional air.

“Hey, what? No one mentioned this to me,” I look around the room wildly and try to get up. I feel Julia’s hand on my shoulder holding me down.

“Is this really necessary doctor?” she asks him. The concern in her voice does little to calm me down.

“I am afraid it is,” he says. “We need to be sure everything is working, if it’s not it could lead to a major problem down the line.”

I try to calm myself down as I feel his strong hands guide my feet into the stirrups. With my knees up I can’t see much but I feel his hands move away and can hear him putting on plastic gloves.

“Now, this will be a little cold, Emma.”

I lie back breathing slowly; somewhere at the back of my mind it registers that he is now calling me Emma. I feel cold metal against parts of my body my mind still hasn’t come to accept exist yet.

I feel Julia squeeze my elbow and I reach up and grab her hand. I realise I have been holding my breath.

After what seems like an eon Doctor Fields finally speaks to me.

“Okay, Emma, everything appears to be in order.” He turns to look at Julia. “You’ll be pleased to know she seems completely healthy.”

“Good,” she says in a whisper and I can see she’s as freaked out by this as I am. I’m sure she never expected to be holding her husband’s hand while he gets a smear test.

“Can I ask you, has she had her period yet?” He asks such an extraordinary thing in such a casual way.

“I think Mark would prefer it if you referred to him as a ‘he’ doctor,” Julia says looking at me and I nod my head in conformation.

“Oh, I am sorry Mark,” says the doctor, standing up so I can see him, “it’s just from the view I have…” his voice trails off, “but getting back to my question?”

“Er… no, I don’t think so,” Julia looks at me for confirmation again.

“No,” I say in a voice barely above a croak.

“Well I wouldn’t worry. It will take a while for all the body’s functions to ‘come on line’, but I think we can expect the cycle to start sometime in the next month to six weeks.”

We just nod dumbly; I can see from Julia’s expression that this is as much a shock for her as for me.

“So, does this mean Emma, I mean Mark, could get pregnant?” Julia asks, putting an actual voice to what I am screaming in my head.

“Well, yes. This technology has been used for surrogacy programmes for couples with fertility problems. All those have been through IVF. I don’t know of any examples of pregnancy through sex with the New Bodies but I guess it is technically possible.”

I try to get up, forgetting that my feet are still trapped the stirrups, causing myself to nearly fall off the bed. I’m only saved by Julia grabbing me. It takes her nearly fifteen minutes to calm me down.

Outside in reception I finally break down completely. I can’t stop myself from crying, sobs so strong that they shake my body. Julia puts her arms around me hugging me close. It lasts only a few minutes and I slowly regain my composure. Patients and medical staff walk by; all they see is a mother consoling her teenage daughter.

I call Julia’s name out as I come in through the door. Thank fuck it’s Friday, I think to myself as I sling my school rucksack down by the coat stand and drop my keys into the key bowl. I can hear voices coming from the living room; “Mum” I call out, remembering to keep my cover.

“In here, sweetheart,” Julia says, popping her head out through the living room doorway at the other end of the hall. “Some of the girls from work are visiting, come say hi.”

God, after the week I’ve had all I want is a beer and curry and a night in front of the TV. But, relationships are made of moments like this so I suck it up and slouch my way down the hallway.

I wait on the edge of the doorway but Julia beckons me in.

“Come on, come say hi to everyone,” she smiles warmly at me. I spy a half empty bottle of wine on the coffee table and full glasses in the hands of the four women in the room. “You know Ms Patil of course,” Julia puts her arm around me hugging me close as I nod at Inspector Deepa, “and these are Kelly and Sophie from the office. Everyone this is my daughter Emma.”

I wince slightly at Julia calling me her daughter; I know it’s the cover but I still can’t quite get used to it.

“Hi everyone,” I say, giving them a lame little wave and the women beam back at me.

“How’s the new school Emma?” the woman introduced as Kelly asks. She’s a tall woman in her late twenties / early thirties; quite hot looking in a ‘power dressing’ sort of a way.

“Oh you know, school is school, one’s pretty much the same as the next.” It means nothing but I hope it is enough to satisfy them.

“You poor thing, I hated starting a new school when I was a teenager,” Sophie says. She’s a short woman, a little round at the hips, wearing a sensible trouser suit. She makes a sympathetic face at me. “I was an army brat so I went to three different high schools,” she says addressing the whole room.

“Yeah, it sucks,” I say hoping to end this conversation as quickly as possible. I am hoping they will let me go to ‘my’ room; at least so I can change out of my school things and play computer games for a bit.

“Emma, Ms Patil has a surprise for you,” Julia says smiling. I shoot her a suspicious look. The other women in the room exchange glances - what the hell is going on? It is then I hear the sound of a toilet flushing coming from the hallway. Who? What?

A tall boy in black jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt enters the room. I recognise him as one of the Sixth Form kids I saw hanging out around the art block. He smiles sheepishly at everyone. I clock his age as being around seventeen. He probably wasn’t even born when that t-shirt first came out.

“Emma, this is Noah, my nephew,” Deepa says. I can tell she is nervous about my reaction. Damn right, she should be.

“Er, hi Noah,” I say glancing nervously at Julia who is still smiling at me. Is this some sort of prank?

“Nice to meet you,” Noah says. I guess he’s not too happy to be here either - I wouldn’t have been happy being stuck with some strange fifteen-year-old girl on a Friday night when I was his age. Noah looms over me. It gives me butterflies; he must be at least a foot taller than me.

“Noah,” says Deepa, “why don’t you help yourself to some wine?” She turns to Julia, “can Emma have a glass as well?”

“I guess.”

Her eyes flicker to me then she turns to Noah.

“Emma can have half wine, half lemonade, Noah.” He shoots me a sympathetic look and I feel myself burning up with embarrassment.

The room breaks into different little conversations as Noah heads to the kitchen looking for glasses.

“Looks like someone is already smitten,” I overhear Kelly saying to Sophie. Damn! They’ve interpreted my embarrassment at the situation as some sort of hopeless teenage crush; I pray Noah doesn’t do the same.

“Sorry love,” Julia whispers to me, “is it okay if I go out for a drink or two?”

I nod; I guess this is hard on her as well, and I suppose I could do with some time alone.

I nod again and she says, “We’ll be leaving in about half an hour,” with a smile.

“Great.” I breathe again - at least my ordeal will be short.

Noah returns from the kitchen and hands me a large wine glass. I take sip realising that he has only put a small splash of lemonade in it, I look at him in shock and catch him giving me a sly little wink. Well, at least one person isn’t treating me like a kid.

Deepa comes over and hands Noah a twenty-pound note saying, “Here’s some extra cash, you can order pizza for you and Emma if you want.”

Hey, wait - Noah is staying here with me?!

“Emma, why don’t you show Noah your room? Noah you are going to love Emma’s record collection,” Julia says, catching me off guard. I try to think of something to get me off the hook but I can’t think quickly enough.

“You collect vinyl, Emma? That’s very cool,” and despite myself I blush at Noah’s flattery, glad of an excuse to get out of the living room and prying eyes. I can see Kelly and Sophie giggling a little as I turn to Noah. As we leave the room I hear Julia’s voice.

“Emma,”

“Yes?” What now?

“Don’t forget to leave your bedroom door open, dear.”

I feel my face burning red hot; I don’t dare look at Kelly, Sophie or Deepa.

“So Deepa is your aunt then?” I ask as I stand in the doorway of my supposed bedroom, afraid to cross the threshold with Noah inside.

“Yeah, Aunty Deepa is married to my father’s brother.” He looks around at me, “This is a pretty cool collection, how did you get so much?”

“My dad left some of it to me when he died,” I reply, which is partly true, although I have had about twenty odd years to build it up since then.

“Bummer,” says Noah.“My dad died a few years ago as well,” he looks at me directly. I see a moment of sadness behind those blue eyes and then it passes. I suppose he isn’t such a bad kid; it might be okay to spend a few hours with him.

I kneel down next to Noah and we spend ten minutes rummaging through my box of records. Noah pulls out The Rocky Horror Show.

“It’s red vinyl, a collector’s edition,” I tell him, a hint of pride in my voice.

“My aunts go mad for this,” he tells me and I try to picture Deepa in full costume. I hear a knock on the open door and nearly jump out of my skin. I realise how close I am to Noah.

“We’re leaving now, honey,” Julia says, standing over me. I can hear the other women putting their coats on in the hall way, “I wont be out too late love, but no staying up past twelve, okay?”

“Mum!” I exclaim, blushing red when I realise how like a fifteen-year-old girl I must sound.

“Noah, here’s a menu for the pizza place Emma likes,” she says, handing Noah a cheaply produced flyer. “Don’t let her order a side of chips, she’s on a diet.”

“My god ‘Mum’, he’s not my babysitter!” I snap, my mouth wide open in disbelief.

“Sorry sweetheart,” Julia bends over and kisses me on the forehead, my kneeling down only adding emphasis to the difference in height between us. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of your new friend.” She smiles at Noah and then exits the room.

My cheeks are still burning as I hear Julia and the others calling out goodbye by before leaving. I am sure I can hear Kelly and Sophie cackling away.

“Hey, I’ve just put together a new playlist, do you want to hear it?” Noah asks, bringing me out of my bad mood and back into the room.

“Sure,” I say with a sigh, “the speakers are in the living room.”

It takes me a while to get Noah’s phone and our speakers to connect. While I am doing that Noah calls the takeaway on our landline. We sit at different ends of the sofa talking about our favourite music. Noah talks about the tracks we listen to and new bands I haven’t heard of, his enthusiasm is endearing. I curl my legs up underneath me; the sensation of feeling the sofa through my tights is still new to me. It makes me realise I am still in my school uniform. Is it too late to go change? Would it give the wrong impression?

As I am weighing up my clothing options the doorbell rings.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” Noah says, standing up and leaving me sitting there. I tell myself off for being so passive. This is my place, I shouldn’t be letting him take the lead. While he’s gone I pull off my school jumper and tie, just leaving the oversized white shirt and black skirt. I notice the skirt has risen up my thighs so I try to pull it down. I wonder if I have time to change into jeans and a jumper but Noah is back in the room before I can do anything.

We eat the pizza straight out of the box. I notice he’s ordered a side of chips.

“Fuck your mum, eh?”

He smiles at me again making me snort through my nose as I laugh, mouth full.

“Yeah,” I say, sounding stupid. I was rather hoping I would get the chance to ‘fuck her’ tonight.

“Hey, is that the latest Call of Duty?” He sounds excited and I look where he is pointing.

“Oh yeah,” I pause, trying to think of an reason why a fifteen year old girl would own a game that isn’t even out on the high street yet. “Mum got it from America, she has friends there.” Well, it was true about the America bit, although Julia hates me playing this game.

“Cool, can you load it up?”

I kneel down in front of the TV setting things up. I try to connect the player with the TV and have to bend right down to reach underneath our plasma screen. As I finally get the thing in I realise I’ve been waving my bum in the air for the last five or so minutes. I don’t dare look around at Noah, I can’t bear seeing the expression on his face.

As I load up the game Noah talks about missions he’s been on with his mates as if they are real, damn millennials. Suddenly he jumps up.

“Wait there,” he says. He heads into the kitchen where I hear him rummaging around. I feel like an idiot just sitting here waiting for him to come back, my hands placed neatly on lap, but I don’t move.

He returns with Julia’s bottle of vodka and two glasses. He sits down cross-legged next to me; even sitting he is much bigger than me. He pours out two generous shots and hands one to me.

“If you get killed, you take a shot,” he smiles.

I realise how much I need a drink as he hands me the glass. Hell, I know this isn’t a good idea but, what with school and Julia working late so much, this is the nearest thing I’ve had to adult company in a long while. Anyway, I should be able to show this little punk a thing or two. He may tower over a foot above me but I can still hand him his arse on Call of Duty any day.

A couple of hours later and we are both a little drunk. The game is starting to get a little stupid as we are joined online by more and more drunks coming back from the pub. I look at my phone, nothing from Julia; I wonder if she’s gone into town?

“You want to do something different?” I ask Noah.

“Sure, what have you got?” He’s leaning back on his arms, his muscles taut.

“You play cards?” I mimic him leaning back, then realise I am pushing my boobs out. I over correct and hug my legs to my torso, unbalancing myself and causing me to wobble unsteadily.

“Sure,” he says, laughing at me, “during break in the common room, but I’m not going to play strip poker with you Emma,”, still laughing a little.

I blush again realising how I must have sounded. I try to recover.

“Aw, tease,” I say as I swerve into the corner. “How about we play for dares?”

I get the cards and we start to play. The first round goes to me and I make him sing ‘I’m A Little Tea Pot’ with the moves while I film him on my phone.

“No social media Emma,” Noah says sternly while I giggle - a little too girlishly for my liking.

The next game goes my way as well and I make him tell me who his first kiss was (Gabby Thomas, final year of primary school; she stood on his Yoda figure and made him cry).

The third game he wins and makes me do ten press-ups while he lies on the floor making sure I lift myself completely off the floor. I have to redo almost as many press-ups as not, but it is worth it, he has a tell. His left eyebrow goes up when he thinks he has a good hand.

Our next game goes on longer than the ones before. I can see he thinks he has a good hand but I have four nines and doubt he can beat that.

“What are you going to put on the table?” he asks, meaning what will the forfeit be if he keeps playing.

I want him to fold so I think quickly.

“Loser gets spanked,” I giggle. My, my, Emma - where did that come from?

“Well, now I have to see your cards,” he grins. I may have miscalculated; perhaps my slapping his bottom isn’t such a deterrent after all.

I place my cards on the table in a pretend coy way expecting him to concede. Too late I notice the shit-eating grin on his face. He places his cards down one at a time, first a ten of hearts, then a Jack of diamonds, a Queen of Spades and a King of Clubs. He holds the final card in his hand for moment or two longer for dramatic effect, my heart in my mouth, before putting the Ace of Spades down. Fuck! A straight flush, the bastard.

He gets up off the floor and sits down on the sofa. Slapping his knee he says, “Come on Emma, hop on.”

Damn he’s played me. I can’t welsh on a bet.

“You wont be too hard will you?” God, I sound pathetic!

Slowly and uncertainly I lie over his knee. He holds my wrists together with his left hand pinning me there.

SMACK!

“Ow, that’s too…”

SMACK!

“… hard!”

SMACK!

“Noah, please!” I squeal.

SMACK! SMACK!

“Are you going to delete that video off your phone?” he asks in a mock reasonable voice.

Stupidly I pause before replying.

SMACK!

“Okay, okay, I’ll delete it! Please stop!” I plead

“Let me see you do it.”

He lets go of my right arm so I can reach over to the table and grab my phone; all the while he slaps my arse although in a softer, more playful way now. Finally I find the ‘Little Teapot’ video and delete it. I hold my phone up to show him.

“Good girl,” he says, giving my bum one last playful swat for good measure before releasing me.

I go sit down on the other side of the table pouting slightly. My bottom hurts as I sit on the hard floor but I wont let him see my discomfort.The next game is my chance to get my own back on the rotter. I have two pairs, kings and eights. By the look on his face he has nothing; there’s no tell.

“What are we betting?” he asks.

“Revenge,” I say, perhaps a little more huffily than I had planned. I get up and go in the kitchen. After rummaging around I come back holding a roll of gaffer tape.“Loser gets taped up,” I say, “and then we’ll see who is the big man.”

I am fed up of feeling loomed over and like a fragile little girl. Time for some payback, Mr Spanky. He agrees to carry on and tries to keep his face straight, but I can see the worry lines on his forehead.

Finally I ask to see his cards. I put mine down feeling fairly confident. He puts a two down, and then another. Well he’s got a pair at least. Then he puts a three down and then another. Well, well respectable at least. Still I’ve won and I reach for the tape, only before I can pick it up he puts his hand on top of it stopping me. I look at him confused; he just smiles putting down a third three. Shit, I’ve been played again!

Before he can say anything I am up and running into the corridor - perhaps if I can make it to my room…

He’s too fast; I feel him grab me from behind and pick me up. He then carries me, fireman style, back into the living room and plops me down on the sofa.

“Hold still, Emma, and this will be over in a minute.”

He isn’t lying; within a few minutes my legs are bound at my knees and ankles. The tops of my arms are bound to my torso and my wrists are bound together in front of me. I wriggle about but I only manage to slip off the sofa bumping my bum again.

“Right,” he says, looking at me like a cat who has cornered a mouse, “I guess there’s only one place left to tape.”

“Hey, wait, what? Mmph!” I cry out as he puts a strip of tape over my mouth. I squeal and can feel my eyes go wide in shock. Damn it, I’ve let myself become his total bitch. It is like there’s some part of my brain that’s just stopped working.

“Look, don’t worry,” he says suddenly sounding reasonable, “I’m not going to do anything to you.”

“Hmmm,” I growl at him, narrowing my eyes. You better not, buster.

“Well,” that shit eating grin returns, “I might just tickle your feet a little.”

I try to pull away but my reaction time is slow and he puts his left hand on my legs holding me there. I feel his finger on the smalls of my feet through the tights I am wearing. Why did they have to make the tights so thin? Come to think of it, why did they make my body so ticklish?

I wriggle about trying to get free, like some helpless trapped worm. For some strange reason I don’t feel scared. Despite everything Noah seems an OK sort of kid. I don’t feel like I am in any real trouble, in fact I feel calm. He works his way up my body tickling my sides through my thin school blouse. My skirt is no longer protecting my modesty; it has ridden right up my thighs. I am wriggling about but it is really only for show. I don’t find him attractive, not any more than in an abstract sense, but it does feel good to be touched. How long has it been, what with the hospital and Julia treating me like a kid?

Ouch! I wasn’t thinking and I’ve banged my head on the side of the table. Darn it, that hurts.

“Hey, you OK?” says Noah and he looks genuinely concerned. “Let me get you out of this”

He gently pulls the tape from my mouth, stroking my hair where I bumped my head in a soothing fashion. I see his concerned face looking down at me and before I know it I am sitting up and kissing him. Not him kissing me, I am kissing him!

It is not him I am thinking about as I close my eyes. Poppy comes into my head. Is it wrong to be fantasising about a fifteen year old girl, even when I am one too? I try to change the mental image to one of Julia, but he pulls back and ends the kiss. Why did I do it? I guess it has been a while since I’ve been touched, what with Julia being freaked out by my new body and the month I was in the hospital.

“Sorry,” I say, “did I just make this feel weird or what?” Suddenly I don’t feel so drunk.

“Ha, I think I may have had more than a hand in that,” he laughs. “Let me give you a hand getting out of that and cleaning this place up.”

I smile at him. He has a calming effect; maybe it is his slow, reassuring way of speaking. A weird thing to think, but as I sit there, him unwinding the tape from around me, I think how he’ll make a great dad some day. He’ll just have to stay clear of girls who want to play kinky games.

As we get up I realise how unsteady I am. Damn you are drunk, girlfriend! I look at the vodka bottle as he picks it up from where we have been sitting. It is almost empty; it was nearly full when we started. Noah sees where I am looking

“Is your mum going to be angry?”

“I’m bound to get it in the neck,” I sigh, although she’s still out and looking at my phone it’s nearly one am.

“Well if it’s any consolation Aunty Deepa’s going to read the riot act at me if she finds out,” he shrugs. “I was supposed to be looking after you.”

“Wait, what?” looking after me?

“Don’t you get it? I was supposed to be your babysitter for tonight.” He must be able to see how angry I am. “Don’t look at me, I thought it was pretty lame too but your mum and Deepa offered me £50. They said you got into a fight earlier in the week and they thought you need someone to talk to.”

I realise I have my arms crossed and am tapping my feet in the classic angry teen girl stance. I don’t know what to say - they thought I needed a babysitter?

“What do they think I am? Ten?” I blurt out.

He comes close, touching my shoulder. The gesture relaxes me a little. What can I say? He really does have a calming effect on me.

“Look,” he says and I have to strain my neck to look up at him, “don’t worry about the alcohol,” I wasn’t thinking about that but I guess I must have looked worried. “I’ll take the blame. Just say it was my idea, I don’t mind,” he says before I can get my protest out. “I’ll even give the money back. I’m just glad you turned out to be so cool. I thought they were going to lumber me with a nerdy little kid.”

After we finish cleaning up I see him to the door, “Thanks,” I say, feeling a little stupid, “for being so nice to me,”

“No worries,” he smiles, “come say hi at school, I’m sure my mates would love you.”

I may be a little rusty at being a teenager but I know being invited to hang out with the sixth formers is going to send my street cred through the roof. Maybe next week wont be so bad.

“Can my friend Poppy come too?” I ask on a whim.

He laughs, “Sure, I’m not going to say no to another pretty girl,” I blush from my head down to my feet and he laughs again.

“Anyway, take care, Emma - see you around,” and with that he’s off.

That was bloody weird, I don’t know what to think. I lean against the door once he’s gone. I go to our bedroom and write a text to Julia calling her out on all this babysitter bollocks but, after a few moments, I delete it. I may be drunk but I know not to text when angry. We’ll just have to sort it out in the morning. In its place I write a text telling her that Noah’s left and that I am going to bed. I finally get changed out of my school uniform and into those bloody Hello Kitty pyjamas. I don’t clean my teeth or wash and I am asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

It must be a couple of hours later when I am woken by Julia stroking my hair.

“Hello sweetheart,” she is in a good mood, “sorry to wake you.” I just grunt; it’s hard to be in a bad mood when Julia is so happy. “I am sorry but I’m going to have to move you into your room.”

“Huh?” I get my voice back, “you mean the little room?”

“Kelly is staying over dear, she missed her last train home,” I take the hint in her voice to stay in character.

“Why can’t she stay in ‘my’ room?” I ask.

“You have to admit, dear, it’d look a little strange for a fifteen year old girl to be sleeping with her mummy,” she laughs a little, I laugh too. I guess she has a point. I start trying to get up. Julia surprises me by taking my hand and leading me out of the room.

I want to protest but I am too groggy from booze and sleep so I let her. Hell it feels nice to be physically close to her again. I feel my eyelids closing as she leads me into the corridor. Kerry must be near by as I hear Julia say “She's still my little girl.” I hear Kerry say something but I can’t make out what it is. Julia puts me down on the single bed and puts the cover over me.

“Thanks for being so understanding, honey,” she whispers kissing me on the forehead. “Sweet dreams.”

I can feel her tucking me in as I drift off. She really would have made a good mother and I feel bad about not giving her kids. Maybe we can look into something after all this is over?

I wake up a little later when I hear the door of the main bedroom bang shut. I hear whispering and giggling coming from there. I guess they must have had a really good night. I try to turn over but Julia has been overly officious with the tucking in and I am pinned where I am. I want to struggle free but my head starts spinning and I fall back asleep.

“Wakey, wakey sweetheart.”

I wake up to Julia standing over me pulling my covers back.

“Urgh,” I grunt in reply, my head pounding. My mouth tastes like something died in it. I screw my eyes up trying to shield them from the bright early autumn sun coming in through the window.

“Come on sleepy head, Kelly is going to buy us breakfast as a thank you for letting her stay.”

Hmmm, I suppose a fry-up might be what’s called for, although I don’t fancy playing the little girl around Kelly any longer. I pull myself up and grunt my assent.

“Good girl,” Julia ruffles my hair. “Ooo, sorry love.” She lowers her voice, she must have caught the dirty look I gave her. I am still smarting over the whole ‘babysitter’ bollocks from last night, but now’s not the time.

“Urgh, how are you up this early in the morning? You were up a lot later than me,” I shake my head, still not used to seeing hair cascading down in front of my eyes although it does give me some privacy.

“I paced myself, and drank plenty of water before bed and also, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re a fair bit smaller than me now. You don’t have the body mass for drinking lots.”

“Don’t remind me,” I say in a huff. God, I sound more like a teenage girl every day. I stand up and feel the room spin for a moment then I’m fine.

“Come on girly, get a move on, Aunty Kerry has a train to catch,” Julia swats my behind, which stings badly after last night, and then shoves a clean towel into my hands. ‘Girly’? ‘Aunty’? There’s no time to pick her up on it now and a hot shower does sound like a good idea.

Steam pours out of the bathroom as I step out and wrap two towels around me, a pink one around my body and a smaller red one around my hair. That was a good idea.

“Emma, can you step in here please?” I hear Julia’s voice coming from the living room and she sounds annoyed.

“Err, sure, what’s up… err mum?”

Moving cautiously I join her in the living room. As I enter I see Kerry looking sheepish.

“I’ll... I’ll just go into the kitchen,” she says. “Anyone want a coffee?”

I just nod at her as she leaves. Julia has a face like thunder and I wonder what I have done now.

“Can you explain this please young lady?”

She’s holding up the nearly empty vodka bottle - well, I guess she had to find out some time. I scratch the back of my head.

“Er... I guess we got a little carried away. Sorry about that.” This feels odd, after all she knows I am a grown up.

“And I got a call while you were in the shower,” - I look at her blankly - “from downstairs complaining about the noise. They said they heard shouting and screaming, they nearly called the police.”

I hope no one ever tries to kidnap me because our neighbours would be useless.

“We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile,” Julia says under her breath.

“Sorry, I guess we didn’t realise.”

It would have been pretty hard to explain if they had burst in while Noah had me taped up on the floor.

“So Noah made you do it?” It’s half a question, half an accusation.

“No, no, nothing like that.” I know Noah said he’d take the fall for me but I am not going to rat him out. “It was all me.”

“I bet it was. I bet you had him around your little finger.”

“Why are you being like this?” I whisper, shooting glances at the kitchen where I can hear Kerry moving around.

Julia follows the direction of my eyes.

“OK, we’ll speak about this later.”

I relax. I’ll give her time to calm down a little and it’ll be okay. She’ll see she is over reacting.

“Go get changed so we can get out of here,” she says, gesturing to the door. As I turn to go she continues in a louder voice, “...and don’t think you got away with it just because Aunty Kerry is here.”

I storm out, enough with this ‘Aunty’ business.

The cafe is bright and busy with customers, mostly young couples and families.

“I used to come here with my ex,” Kerry tells me while Julia is in the toilet. On the table next to us is a middle-aged couple with two boys. The oldest of which, probably around thirteen I’d guess, keeps glancing at me. His looks are getting bolder and crossing over the line into staring.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I mutter under my breath.

Kerry turns to see where I am looking.

“Just try to ignore him honey,” she says.

“Urgh, why do boys have to stare so much?” I realise I’m a big hypocrite; I probably stared just as much when I was a teenage boy. “It's been like this at school.”

“Well, school will calm down soon. At the moment you’re something of a novelty,” Kerry smiles kindly. I guess she’s not so bad. I can’t blame her for Julia’s mood.

“More like novelty toy,” I say in a huff, at which Kerry smiles.

“Well you should never let anyone make you feel like that,” She pauses and I can feel she is working up to something, “but remember they are just as afraid of you as you are of them. Even if it does seem like your classmates have suddenly shot up and you are living in the land of the giants. They may look intimidating now but they are still the frightened kids inside they used to be. It takes boys a while to get used to their new bodies.”

I just nod. I do remember how it felt trying to approach a girl when I was in my early teens. Still, I don’t like the staring.

Kerry has left to catch the train and Julia and I are heading home. I try to engage her in conversation but she ignores me. I take a deep breath and wait for the battle ahead. As we climb the stairs to our front door she gets ahead of me. I can’t climb stairs too fast in these skin-tight jeans and I am frustrated Julia wont slow down for me. By the time we get through the door we are both in a mood.

“Okay,” says Julia and I can see she’s trying to keep calm. For some reason, that makes me even madder “What the hell happened last night?”

“You tell me,” I say through gritted teeth. “What was all that about a babysitter?”

“He told you did he?” she sighs, “We were worried about leaving you on your own, especially after what happened in the week. I don’t think you realise just how vulnerable you are now. That’s a new body you’re in and you’re still a learner driver.”

“Don’t you think I know?” I’m shouting and waving my hands around. “Look at me!” I pull at the jumper I am wearing, only stopping myself when I realise I have just stamped my foot. I take a deep breath. “Don't you think I know I now have the body of fifteen year old girl and that half the gangsters in London are out to get me. Why do you think I was drinking?”

Ha, that should put her in her place. I give Julia a dirty look but she holds my gaze.

“But it’s not just the drinking is it?” she asks pointedly.

“W-what do you mean?” I am caught off guard. She turns and walks towards the living room and kitchen; I start to follow her but she turns and says sharply, “Just wait there.”

I don’t know why but I find myself rooted to the spot. It’s not like I can’t move, more that the thought of moving fills me with anxiety. Damn, this small body is easy to intimidate.

Julia returns with something screwed up in her hands. It takes me a few moments to realise that it is the gaffer tap from last night. Oh shit, I should have hidden it better, pushed it to the bottom of the rubbish, I think as Julia holds it up in front of my face.

“What’s this?” she asks but her face tells me she knows.

“It... we,” I’m stammering, trying to think how to explain that I let a seventeen year old boy tie me up.

“It was a game, we were just being a bit silly.”

“A game? One of your tie-me-up games no doubt?”

There’s no point denying it and I just look at the floor in shame.

“So you tied that poor boy up just like you used to do to me.”

Her eyes bore into me like searchlights looking for escaped prisoners. We used to have a few kinky sessions years ago but Julia was never that into it.

“Well actually, it was more a case of me being the one who was tied up,” I answer sheepishly. I can tell immediately I’ve said the wrong thing. If this were a cartoon, steam would be pouring out of Julia’s ears.

“So, you batted your eyelashes and got your new friend to tie you up. Did anything else happen?”

“Hey, that’s not what happened. It was a bet. We were playing cards and he was a total card sharp…”

Julia cuts me off “Did anything else happen?”

“Err..” there’s no point lying. I can only try honesty now. “There was a kiss,” my voice trails off.

“He kissed you?” her voice is calm but I can hear the fury behind it.

“Well no, I sort of kissed him.” I can see she’s about to explode, “but it was an accident, my head was all messed up.” I can feel it’s not working. “It was the booze.”

“So,” her voice is cool and emotionless, “when you’re drunk you can’t be expected to stay faithful to me. Is that what you are telling me?”

“No, it’s not like that… it was a bet,” I say pathetically. I’ve not sounded this much like a lame teenager for at least two decades.

“Has this happened before when you’ve been drunk? God knows you used to get drunk with your mates often enough.” She stares hard at me. I feel like I just want to melt away.

“No, no, never, that isn’t what this was. It’s this body, it does crazy things to my head.”

“No,that’s not true. The body doesn’t rewrite your brain waves. It can’t change your behaviour patterns or your sexuality. It’s all about how you use your body.” She turns and walks into our bedroom. “Follow me,” and I do.
Julia sits on the edge of the bed, “I think, seeing as I can’t trust you as a husband but I do still have a duty to keep you safe, at least until the trial.... well, given those things I think it is better if we keep our relationship to a mother - daughter one, at least for now.”

“What?” I look at her, she means business. “Look, if that’s how I prove to you that I’m truly sorry then okay.”

“Good,” she smiles a little, “I’m glad you are being sensible now. This means from now on you call me mum or mother and I call you Emma, even in private. And you refer to other adults as Mrs or Mr, at all times.”

I nod my head. Jesus, I’m in trouble.

“Good. It also means you abide by the rules I set, and try your best at school. And you sleep in your room, not mine, from now on.” She looks tired but I can tell her mind is set so I just nod my head in consent.

“OK, good. I’m glad we’ve had this talk, Emma,” and I wince a little at her using my female name while in private, “now go to your room please and spend the rest of they day there.”

I protest: “I have to spend the rest of the day in my room? That's not fair!”

“Not fair? I should be putting you out of the door after what you did. Is it fair I’ve had to give up my whole life to look after you?”

Give up a job you hated, you mean? But I keep quiet, no point stoking the fire.

“But I’m an adult!”

Even as I say it I realise no one sounds like an adult when they are protesting that they are one.

“No, you’re not. In fact I don’t think you ever were, not really.”

I am stung, I can’t speak and my mouth just gapes open.

“I always felt sorry for you. I know you were traumatised when you lost your parents at fourteen. But I don’t think you ever moved on, not really,” she sighs, looking more sad than angry. “Now go to your room, Emma.” Her voice is stern and in control and I feel my body starting to move, even without me willing it.

“Y-yes,” I stammer.

“Yes what?” Her voice is clear in my head.

“Yes, mum.”

Staying in my room is no fun, especially when I realise that the Kindle and the tablet are both in the living room. I think about playing some records but worry that Julia will think I am not taking my punishment seriously enough. I figure my best plan is to stick to the new rules for a day or two and hope it blows over. I feel really bad about the whole ‘cheating’ thing. I didn’t think of it like that at the time but I have to admit it was pretty shitty of me.

I pick up one of the books Mr Hulse gave me for English. The book is Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson. I’ve heard it’s good, so why the hell not?

After about an hour and a half of a mixture of reading and dozing the pressure on my bladder gets so I can’t ignore it anymore. I’m not sure what the rule is for the toilet - do I need to ask for permission?

I open my bedroom door slowly and creep along the corridor; from the living room I can hear the sound of the TV, some sort of cookery programme I guess.

“Mum?” There’s no response so I raise my voice, “Mum?”

“Yes, Emma?” and the cookery programme stops as Julia puts it on pause.

“Can I use the toilet?” I can’t help keep the nerves out of my voice.

“Can I use the toilet, what?” she repeats back at me, not bothering to come out of the living room to speak to me.

“Can I use the toilet, please mum?”

“Yes Emma, thank you for asking so nicely.” It is some sort of progress, I guess.

I sit on the toilet reading my book; through the door I can hear the sound of Julia’s programme restarting. As I get up I wonder if I could ask to borrow the Kindle, as it’s clear Julia is not using it. I decide not to risk provoking an argument. It's not worth the hassle.

I flush the toilet, wash my hands and head back to what is now ‘my’ room. The TV is still on in the living room; Julia doesn’t seem interested in coming out to speak to me. I decide to take a small risk. At the end of the hall I find my duffel coat and very quietly take out my phone and earphones. At least now I’ll be able to listen to music without calling attention to myself. Feeling a little better about myself I settle back down on the small bed and take my phone out. I notice I have a text from Poppy.

Poppy: “Hey Em, how’s your wknd going? Me and a frnd are thinking of going into town tmrrw, wanna come? xxxx”

I read the text through three times; somehow it makes me feel better knowing someone out there actually wants to know how I am. I see it was sent about two hours ago, probably while Julia and I were having our argument. I text back.

Emma: “Hey Pops, wknd has been a rollercoaster, got wasted last night now locked in a tower by the wicked witch. xx”

I feel bad calling Julia the wicked witch when this is really my fault, but I need to vent. I also need to feel like there is someone on my side. I put the phone down not expecting a reply for a while but the phone vibrates again just two minutes later. I guess teenagers are less guarded.

Poppy: “Wasted, what have you been up to naughty grl??! Xxxxx”

It makes me laugh. I immediately look to the door half expecting to see Julia there angry at me but of course she’s not.

Emma: “Mum went out with her mates and I was left with my Noah from the 6frm! xxx”

I look at what I have written and think about how Poppy will read it, I change “Noah from the 6frm” to ‘a family friend’.

Poppy: “A family friend, is she cute? Xxxxx”

I think I’ve made her a little jealous, although I don’t like to think what that means.

Emma: “He’s a boy and it’s not like that, he’s just a cool guy”

Poppy: “A boy? Intriguing, you must escape the Ogre Princess and tell me all tomorrow. Is the handsome prince in trouble too?”

Emma: “Don’t think so, I covered for him. When the worst comes to the worst my peeps come first,”

I wonder if she’ll get the song reference.

Poppy: “Hashtag Double standards”

If only she knew the half of it. I hear the doorbell ring and Julia go and answer it. Through the door I can hear her speaking to another woman. I am pretty sure it is Deepa. I am not sure what to do. Should I come out? I text Poppy first.

Emma: “The Ogre has sent for reinforcements, better go. Txt you later.”

I hear Julia and Deepa heading off down the hallway, no one knocks on the door. Should I stay put? I guess I better had until further notice. I am not sure if I want Deepa to see me while I am in the doghouse (or should I say the Wendy house?)

I look at my phone - no reply from Poppy; perhaps I shouldn’t have ended the conversation so quickly. I am left sitting there for half an hour/forty minutes until there’s a knock on the door. Julia opens the door without waiting for me to invite her.

“Emma, Inspector Patil is here to talk to you about last night. Can you come in to the living room please?” Julia’s voice is formal but not unkind. I hope I am getting through to her. Why does Deepa want to talk to me? It isn’t like we broke any laws. At least I hope not.

“Sure, but you say you’ve told her what happened last night?” I can’t hide my fear.

“Not everything,” Julia says quietly, “not about the sex games,” - shit, we’re still on that - “but about the drinking and yes, the kissing. And a couple of other things I noticed.” Why is she being so mysterious I wonder?

“Okay,” I say, “I’m coming.”

Julia still stands in the doorway blocking my exit. “Just remember what I said about how you should address adults. It’s Ms Patil unless she tells you different.”

I nod feeling my cheeks burning from embarrassment.

In the living room Deepa is sitting on the sofa, she motions for me to come and sit next to her so I do. Julia takes the armchair across from me.

“Hi Emma - is it okay for me to call you Emma?” Deepa seems to be smiling. That’s good, I was worried I was going to be in for another telling off.

“Emma is fine,” I glance over at Julia, “I suppose I need to get used to it.”

“Good, thank you for making the effort,” she smiles again and I relax a little. “I wanted to ask you what happened last night, in your own words.”

I tell all I can, leaving out the little bondage game and spanking. I notice Julia nod slightly when I skip over those parts.

“Well Emma, I suppose no harm has come from this, although you are going to need to be careful around alcohol when you are out in public. It could put you at risk. Especially as there are people out there who want to do you harm.”

“Sure Ms Patil, don’t worry, I’ve learnt my lesson.” Deepa looks a little confused when I call her ‘Ms Patil’ but doesn’t seem to want to push it. She seems happy I’m not going to be putting myself in any danger.

“Now this kiss, you say Noah didn’t force you?” I can feel her watching me intently.

“No, if anything I kissed him. Your nephew was the perfect gentleman,” (apart from tying me up with gaffer tape and spanking my bottom red raw…). Well, there’s no point throwing Noah under the train, I might as well take the blame.

Deepa seems to visibly relax; she must have been worrying she was going to discover something nasty about her nephew.

“That is good to hear,” Deepa smiles at me.

“I think it might be this body… something like the hormones it produces?” I ask.

“No, it can’t be that. The bodies have something built into them to ensure that doesn’t happen. Anyhow gender and sexuality is far more complicated than just hormones and the shape of genitals. There are many other factors ranging from brainwave patterns to social conditioning.” She looks to Julia and then looks at me. “The body can’t just change your sexuality the first time you come into contact with a tall skinny boy who looks good in a tight t-shirt.”

Julia giggles and then asks a question, “But we were saying that we both noticed some strange behaviour in you even before we left,” she says, looking intently at me then back at Deepa.

“Yes, that’s right. Emma, can I ask you how did you feel when you were around Noah?”

Feel? I didn’t feel anything except drunk, but then again I suppose there was something.

“I’m not sure it’s relevant but I think I did feel very calm when we were together,” I pause for thought, pressing my memory for more details, “and come to think of it, even before we drank anything I felt a little floaty, you know, light headed,” I look between the two women; could this explain my behaviour?

“Hmmm,” says Deepa, “I wonder,” she turns to Julia to explain further. I feel a little mad that she treats me like a child. “The New Bodies technology was, as you know developed for doing dangerous jobs that need humans to do them, such on oil rigs, nuclear power plants, deep mining and so on.” We both nod although Deepa isn’t really looking at me,.“In those cases the bodies are much simpler, and are controlled by remote control or human voice recognition. There’s no point putting anyone inside them as they would be in almost as much risk as they would be if they were in their own bodies.”

“And what does this have to do with Emma?” Julia asks tartly.

“Well, although Emma’s body is very different, far more complicated than those drones, it does share the same basic template. I am wondering if, buried deep down inside her body, there is some part of her that recognised something in Noah as a controller.” She gives me a quizzical look.

“What the f-,” I catch the look Julia is giving me and stop myself from swearing. “I mean are you telling me that there might be guys out there who can tell me what to do and that I can’t disobey?” This deal is getting worse and worse!

“No, not quite. These control patterns exist in all New Bodies, however they are deliberately toned down in ones like yours. No one can force you to do something you don’t want to do. It’s like hypnotism; despite what you may read in bad fiction no one can hypnotise you to harm yourself or to do something that goes against your nature; they can only put suggestions in your head. Also you need to have a deep connection with the person for it to be effective.”

‘Deep connection’, that’s something to think about. I see the expression in Julia’s face and it's not good.

“Usually the connection is activated by some sort of act, usually some submissive gesture on behalf of the New Body. In the case of the simpler models they will bow when they have accepted a new controller. Was there any moment like that?” She looks at us both with a bit of suspicion.

“Well, maybe. OK Deepa, thanks so much for explaining this to us,” Julia says to her, then turns to me, “Emma dear, I want to have a quick talk to Ms Patil before she leaves, would you mind putting the kettle on and getting the pasta going for our tea?” She must see the blank look on my face. “There’s a packet of M&S pasta in the fridge.”

I nod in agreement. I don’t much like the idea of them talking about me behind my back but I can see I still need to win Julia around so I let it go. It’s a while before Julia returns and I have already started the sauce for the pasta.

“What was all that about?” I ask.

“I just had a few questions,” and she says no more.

I begin to push her but she changes the subject by asking me to go fetch a blanket.

“Let's curl up on the sofa and watch crap telly,” she says in a friendly way. I’m too glad to be back in her good books to press things any further. Anyway I want to ask her permission to hang out with Poppy tomorrow.

A few minutes later we are both curled up on the sofa under the blanket eating our pasta from plates on our knees.

“What shall we watch?” she asks between mouthfuls.

“Don’t mind,” I reply, “just don’t make me watch The Voice or Britain’s Got Talent or any of that rubbish.”

“Wrong answer, kiddo,” she grins at me. “My house, my rules.”

Thanks as always to Robyn and Cressar, and to all of you who read and comment. Enjoy!

Part 3

I spot Poppy waiting for me at the bus stop just before she sees me. She's wearing a vintage dress, Doc Martins and an old leather jacket. The girl's got style and it makes me feel self conscious about my scruffy skin-tights, hoodie and duffel coat. The tight jeans pull against the lower half of my body as I walk, making me even more self-aware. There are curves where there shouldn’t be and something missing up front.

She's spotted me now and starts waving; I give her a little half wave of my hand, not wanting to seem stand-offish.

"Hey," she greets me and then catches me off guard by giving me a little hug, "glad you could make it. The Wicked Witch let Cinderella go to the ball, then?"

I mutter something about Julia, ‘Mum’, not being so bad. I still feel guilty about Friday and hanging out with a bunch of much younger girls doesn't help that. Still, these are the only people who are going to see me as an equal for a while.

"This is Esse," Poppy says, indicating a tall black girl hiding at the back of the bus stop.

"You the girl who punched Jessie?" Esse extends a hand to me, which I take, finding the gesture strangely formal, "and I hear you were drinking with some sixth form boys at the weekend?" I spot some Nigerian in her accent.

"Just the one, and he's a friend of the family," I mutter. After the week I've had I shouldn't protest, just take the street cred and run.

Esse smiles broadly revealing a mass of beautiful white teeth, "Girl, you got some big lady balls, I like you!" If only she knew.

We chat for a few minutes before the 86 arrives, then get on showing our passes. One plus I guess; I don't have to pay full price.

"Let’s go up top," Esse points to the stairs.

"Maybe not," Poppy says cautiously, "I don't feel like getting hassled by any boys today." She glances at me - perhaps she wants me to back her up?

Esse doesn't wait to hear my opinion, she just says, "I ain't letting no stinky boys tell me where I can sit," putting emphasis on the 'boys' part before storming on up the stairs.

We take the front four seats. I can remember sitting in the same place when I was a kid looking out the top front windows thinking it was like I was flying. It was probably the same bus route. I feel good having this little connection to my childhood, before it all went wrong.

A tall black teenage boy takes one of the seats behind us and starts to try and talk to us. I am glad when Esse tells him to get lost as I don't think I could have dealt with him. He says something to Esse I can't make out, but from the look on her face it’s disrespectful. He then turns to Poppy and me. "You two girls want to come sit with me? You can sit on my lap if you want, green eyes." I realise with a shock he's talking about me.

"I would," I reply, looking down at his lap, "but it doesn't look like there's much there to sit on." Both Poppy and Esse fall about laughing and the boy doesn't look too pleased. He turns back to look out the window muttering something about 'lesbians' and 'not dissing him'. Thankfully the bus fills up at the next two stops and we are left alone.

I actually find the shopping much more fun than I was expecting. I'm not all that into the clothes shops, although I do enjoy the commentary Poppy and Esse keep going on the other customers. I feel a bit bad when a middle-aged mum catches us giggling behind her back.

I cringe when the two girls show me a low cut dress that Esse thinks will suit me. I’ve been coping so far by wearing the sort of clothes that cover up this body. The way Poppy looks at me reminds me that out of sight doesn’t necessarily mean out of everyone’s mind. Suddenly I am aware of how my hips move and how the weight of my new breasts feel. Hell is other people.

I love the record shops, although I have to half drag the girls into Piccadilly Records. In the end I get fed up of Poppy following me around the aisle like a bored puppy.

"Look, we can go in a second," I say, "just let me pay for this." The two girls wait for me at the front door while I pay for the record. I get an idea; if I’m going to be hanging around with these two a lot then I need to educate them in the finer things. A couple of minutes later I’m with them and hand Poppy the bag. She looks a little stunned; "It's for you," I say, "it's an early Sugarcubes record, ‘Life's Too Good’." She looks even more confused.

"That's Björk, you'll love it." What seemed like a good idea two minutes ago is now making me feel like an idiot "Do you have something to play it on?" I ask.

"Yeah, I think my dad has an old record player somewhere," Poppy says, turning the bag over in her hands and looking at the album cover through the thin plastic, "but I could have just downloaded it from iTunes."

"It's not the same," I say with conviction, "those sound files are compressed so you lose so much of the depth and texture."

"You’re beginning to sound like my dad," Esse observed. "Where did you learn all this?"

"From my dad, before he died..." and my voice trails off. It's true, well most of it. My dad was a goner a long time before iTunes.
"Ain't you the lucky one Popsicle," Esse says to Poppy, "your new girlfriend’s already buying you presents!”

I feel my ears burning with embarrassment and when I look over at Poppy, she's blushing too.

For the rest of the afternoon I give in and let the girls drag me around clothes shops in the Arndale Centre. Not my favourite activity but I am enjoying their company. Poppy can actually be quite assertive and makes me try on several outfits even though we’re only window-shopping. In a large chain store she picks out a skirt for me to try on.

"No way are you getting me into that," I protest, looking at the black PVC miniskirt she's holding up.

"If you want me to listen to your dad record you are going to have to do what I say," she says firmly.

"okay then," I sigh. Well, it can't hurt I suppose.

The shop assistant, a lanky boy with spots and greasy hair, eyes us with a mixture of lust and mistrust as we approach the changing rooms.

“My friend wants to try something on," Esse tells him.

He nods. "How many items?"

"Just the one," adds Poppy, although I could have sworn I saw her pick up something else. Inside the changing room Esse pulls aside the curtain to one of the cubicles and Poppy hands me the skirt.

"Go on then,” she says with a wink, “let the tiger see the meat."

I take the skirt grumbling to myself as I do. How do I end up in these situations?

I totter nervously out of the cubicle feeling like I'm half naked. The skirt is tight and restricts my leg movement quite a bit.

"So," I say uncertainly, "what do you think?" I’m more than half expecting them to fall about laughing.

Esse wolf whistles. "Damn, for a short girl you have great legs."

"Hey!" I reply, "I'm not that short," although I must be at least a couple of inches shorter than both of them. I look nervously at Poppy who seems a little dazed.

"Turn around," she says and I do as I am told.

"That arse maybe way too skinny, but it’s still hot for a white chick…” says Esse. "Hell Poppy, I think Emmy might be converting me to your team."

I look back at over my shoulder at Poppy, unsure of her reaction.
"Damn it, Emmy," Poppy says, "you've got to have that skirt." This last part she says with so much conviction I start thinking how I will explain a new skirt it to Julia.

"I can't Poppy, I've spent all my money," I tell her. All the cash Julia gave me and I can't use my credit cards for fear they can be traced.

Poppy put a finger to her lips then says, "Go get changed."

I don't know what she has planned, is she going to buy it for me? I don't protest, I just get back into my jeans. Coming out again Poppy takes the skirt off me and shoves it into the front pouch of my hoodie then tells me to stick my hands in as well. I do as I am told, but shouldn't I be protesting? After all I am the adult here.

Poppy pulls out another skirt from her jacket pocket and taps the side of her nose. I let out a little laugh. We exit the changing rooms and Poppy hands the shop assistant the decoy skirt and numbered token, he just nods, Poppy says, "Not her size," and both Esse and me snigger.

"As soon as the alarm goes off run, we'll meet you in the food court," Esse whispers under her breath. I take a deep breath myself; I guess this is some sort of initiation test. I steel myself to run but even before the alarm goes off I feel a big strong hand grabs my arm. Another man is about to grab Poppy but I stick my leg out tripping him.

“Run!" I scream, making everyone in the shop look around. I’m pleased to see my new friends disappearing.

The mall cop on the floor gives me a dirty look. His friend with the meaty hands pulls mine out of my hoodie pouch and then shoves a hand inside.

"Fuck off, you perv!" I shout at him, hoping against hope to stop him. It doesn't work; he's already holding the skirt.

He grabs my arm and hauls me off; I see his friend grinning at me like the cat that got the mouse. Oh shit, I’m for it now.

My hands are handcuffed behind my back and I am sat on a bench in a windowless room looking at a bank of monitor screens. I notice ruefully that one of the monitors shows an aerial view of the women's changing rooms. Shit, I am bang to rights.

"Were you watching me change?" I say to my big lug of a captor, trying to get a rise out of him. I notice the lug has a name badge saying 'Artur' but he is 'The Lug' to me. I can still feel his hands taking the opportunity to wander all over my body as he half carried me up the stairs to the office. The thought makes me shudder.

He just shrugs. "Jan keeps an eye on the women's changing rooms," nodding to the door as a middle aged women carrying two plastic cups of coffee comes into the room. She hands one cup to The Lug and then turns to me.
"What are you doing stealing? You seem like a nice girl." Her tone is motherly, even sympathetic. I suspect she has teenagers of her own.

"Look," I sigh, swallowing down my pride, "can you call an Inspector Deepa Patil for me?"

"Who?" she asks, shooting a confused look at The Lug.

I take a deep breath and tell myself it's the only way. I cross my fingers hoping Deepa will understand and won’t tell Julia.

"There's a card in the back pocket of my jeans," I explain.

"There's no way I’m letting this little brat off, just because she has some relative in the regular cops," huffs The Lug. My guess is that he's some sort of frustrated copper wannabe. He's deluded if he thinks Deepa will view him as some sort of ‘colleague’.

"It's going to save you a lot of time and my wrists a lot of pain."

About an hour later my bottom is completely numb and I’m trying to judge whether Jan will let me go to the toilet or not. I know The Lug won't, the sadistic bastard - or worse, he'd want to come with me. Then the door swings open and some old guy, the store manager I guess, comes in with Julia and Deepa. Man, do they look angry.

"Hi Mum," I say sheepishly. So Deepa told on me, the rat!

Julia gives me a look that could bring down a rhino. "Don't you dare talk, not less you’re spoken to, young lady," she spits. I see The Lug grinning smugly from behind her back; I'd love to punch that bastard in the face.

The group splits into two; Deepa taking the store manager and The Lug to one side. I hear parts of what Deepa’s saying; "witness protection," and "building a case”, “a criminal prosecution would really hurt”, and finally "this gang are real nasty pieces of work."

On the other side of the room Julia and Jan are having a heart to heart. They keep giving me exasperated looks and occasionally I hear a little laughter. Finally the store manager comes over to me.

“Hello Emma, my name’s Jez," he says.

"Hi" I say half-heartedly. What sort of adult calls himself ‘Jez’?

"Emma," his voice is serious, "we take shoplifting very seriously here. Shoplifting is stealing, just like taking money from an old lady. You wouldn't take money from an old lady would you Emma?"

I shake my head whilst trying to look as contrite as possible. After ten minutes or so of a lecture on the rights and wrongs of stealing he finally comes to his point.
"I know from the inspector here that you've been going through a very difficult time recently, and that you've had to fit in a new place, which is hard for anyone. I am also assured that your mother will see to it that you are properly punished." I’m certain he's right about that. "So," he finishes, "I’m willing to let you off with a warning this time, if your mother is willing to pay for the item you took."

We all look at Julia who gives a stern little nod of the head.

"I can go?" I ask in as meek a voice as possible. I flash him my Bambi look with my big green eyes.

This time Jan smiles in a more friendly way. "Yes, after your mother has filled in a little paperwork you can go."

Several hours later I am back in my room with joint lectures from both Deepa and Julia ringing in my ears. They’ve threatened to send me to a boarding school if I keep putting myself in danger; I don't like the sound of that. Ruefully I think how it all started with a text in this room yesterday, which reminds me of my phone. What with my hands being cuffed and with Julia and Deepa tearing me a new one I haven't checked it since I was caught.

I pull it out of my back pocket and see there are more than a dozen unread texts. I scroll down them seeing that they’re all from Poppy. I start reading; at first they’re asking if I’m okay but after a couple they start becoming more frantic before descending into tearful (my guess) texts saying how sorry she is and how she wouldn't blame me if I never wanted to speak to her again.

I roll my eyes, the poor girl. I’m touched; I’m also glad she wasn't stupid enough to go back and hand herself in. I text her back:

Emma: "I'm safe and sound, was let off with a caution, (I don't explain why) "the wicked witch has me locked back in my tower though :-\ xx"

Minutes later I get a reply:

Poppy: "PHEW! I am soooooo glad. Sooooo sorry, can you forgive me? :-( :-( :-( xxxxxxxx"

Her text makes me smile.

Emma: "Nothing to forgive :-) I had fun today. They made Mum buy the skirt and promise to punish me. I think she is happier about the second part xxxx"

Poppy: "You've still got the skirt! Can't wait to see you in it again Jailbird ;-) xxxxxxxxx"

I smile at her unguarded enthusiasm, then I wonder if I should really be having a text conversation with a fifteen-year-old girl who has a crush on me, so I put the phone down. About ten minutes later it buzzes again only this time I don't recognise the number.
I open up the text, it just says "Hugs xxxx" but there is a photo attached. I enlarge the photo and see that it is the selfie Esse took of all three of us in the Arndale food court. I sit there looking at it for a while feeling just a little bit lighter.

-------------

London

Viktor is in the back office of the pool hall. He's in a bad mood; he has been hiding in dark shitholes like this for weeks now. Later he’s going to need some pussy before he goes stir crazy.

As he holds up his phone wondering who to call it vibrates with a new text message. It's from Artur; he wonders what that unless shit wants and how he got the number of this burner. He opens it up

Artur: The wife of that guy you are after is in Manchester with her bitch of a daughter

Attached is a blurred picture. It is badly taken but Viktor recognises the wife of Mark Healey and sees some little girl with her. Funny no one said anything about Mark having a daughter; maybe she’s from a previous marriage, or a niece maybe.

Why is this dickhead sending me this from a registered phone? Viktor thinks. What an idiot. The phone buzzes again.

Artur: I have an address

Viktor smiles; he’s going to have to get a message to the Madam, she’ll know what to do.

-------------

School is much better now. The tales of my weekend exploits have spread and I’ve been welcomed into Poppy's little gang with open arms. In fact on Monday Poppy presents me to each of her friends as if I’m some foreign dignitary on a special visit.

Just before we split to go to our different form rooms Poppy pulls me to one side. “I wanted to thanks you for my record,” she says, “dad played it for me, he says you’ve got great taste.”

“You’re close to your dad, aren’t you?” I ask.

“Well, he looked after us after mum had to go away, so yeah, I am a bit of a daddy’s girl,” I can see how she’d be the pride of any half cool farther, “and dad says you’re welcome around ours any time.” I catch more than just a little a hint.

As well as Poppy and Esse there's Tony, a shy gay Chinese kid, Peter the lanky arty kid with messy hair and Ian, both of whom I know from art classes. Peter jokes they are the token white, heterosexual guys in the group. Then there’s Paddy, real name Patricia. She’s Peter's best friend and is a bit of a militant lesbian. She isn't best pleased when I answer 'It's complicated' to her question about which side of the bed I sleep on.

Even some of the popular kids say hi, having heard the tale of me partying with a sixth former over the school grapevine. I am beginning to see Deepa's point about arranging the 'play-date' to help me fit in. She's a smart cookie that one; I may have to forgive her for dobbing me in over the Arndale Heist.

Speaking of Noah I see him a couple of times from across the way. The Sixth Form College backs onto the High School’s playing fields and shares some of the same buildings. The edge where the two meet is where the older school kids and some of the sixth formers go to smoke. He's always with his mates and I’m always too nervous to say hello. It's a shame because he seems like a fun guy, but I’m still freaked out by Deepa's revelation that I may have something in my mind that allows me to be controlled by the boy. I don't fancy being anyone's puppet on a string.

Home life is rather more difficult. Julia isn't too impressed that I won't rat out my friends from the Sunday heist. She probes me to see if Noah was there, but I can truthfully say no. Harder to explain is how I let two teenage girls persuade me to go into the changing rooms with them and model a short skirt for them.

On Wednesday I come home to find a strange man standing in our living room. The room is covered in files and notes so I assume he’s from Julia's work.

"Hi," I say nervously.

"Hi," he says back equally unsure.

We stand there for a few moments not knowing what to say until Julia comes back into the room.

"Oh, hi Emma, I wasn't expecting you back so soon," she looks a little startled to see me but recovers well.

"You told me to come straight home from school every day this week," the room is silent; I can hear the rain beating against the windows.

"This is Richard darling." I don't like the way Julia and Richard smile at each other. "He's my line manager at work. We are working on a big new case together so we thought we'd come here for some piece a quiet, if that's alright love?"

"I don't know why you’re asking me," I say petulantly, "it's your rules around here, not mine. You made that quite clear." I see the sad look on Julia's face and instantly feel bad. "It's okay," I say,trying to look cheerful, "I'll go to my room and do some homework. Good luck guys, hope you get the bad guys!"

As I leave the room I hear laughter and talking. I am glad Julia is so happy in her new job. When we first met we were both trying to make our way in the music business, me as a musician and then a producer, Julia as copyright lawyer. Once we moved down to London I slowly but surely rose up the ranks while still getting to do the fun stuff like hanging out with the talent. Julia on the other hand found herself working for a big firm of lawyers wrangling over complex contracts and dealing with big egos. Obviously the new job suits her. Maybe we could move up after all this was over?

By now it’s the middle of October and I’m easing into the rhythm of life. I’ve received my first monthly visit. Now I know how Hungary felt; it’s no fun being occupied by the Red Army! I become super aware of my new body, with my breasts feeling sore and real pain coming from the direction of my womb. It makes me ponder two things, firstly that it may be possible for me to create life, which really freaks me out and secondly, that this body was created for someone else, someone who had been expecting to live a full life in it. I wonder who that is, and what they’re doing now?

Weekday mornings I walk to school with Poppy and Esse, who both live nearby. I enjoy the journey and the clear head it gives me. This Monday is especially clear and fresh. The streets of Whalley Range are lined by large trees that drop a blanket of red and yellow leaves in the Autumn. I can think of nothing better than crunching through them. Esse picks up a handful and chucks them at Poppy who howls in laughter then chases her friend with two handfuls of leaves. When she catches her she stuffs leaves into her hood and they both fight. “Whose side are you on Emmy?” Esse shouts.

“Consider me Switzerland,” I laugh.

“War is coming Emmy, time to choose,” says Poppy. Then they both look at each other, evil expressions in their faces.

“Oh no,” I says stepping back a little.

“Oh yes,” they say in unison, bending down to pick up more leaves. I dash away taking advantage of my new young legs. The only problem is that I am looking backwards at the girls and not paying attention to where I am going so I end up slamming into someone and falling on my behind.

“Emma Riley!” I look up to see Noah grinning back at me. “We really must stop meeting like this,” he laughs.

“Don’t just stand there gawping, boy, give me a hand up,” I say stretching out my arm, hoping I’ve covered my embarrassment. The thought that my breasts, small as they are, have just collided with his hard chest is, well… very odd. He takes my arm and yanks me up. We end up standing a little too close and after a moment of awkward silence I step back a pace.

“It’s been a while, why haven’t you come over to say hi?” he asks, still grinning.

“Didn’t think you’d want some kid coming over and embarrassing you in front of the other sixth formers,” I say looking down at my shoes. I don’t say the real reasons; that I am ashamed and frightened by how I behaved the last time I was around him. Or that my wife, now acting as my mother, is jealous of him.

“Don’t be stupid, I told you it was fine,” I suddenly feel like a heel for not coming over, he’s just trying to be friendly. “Are you coming to the Halloween party at the Academy in a couple of weeks? My band is playing.”

The Academy is a venue on Oxford Road, near the university buildings. It’s run by the Student Union.

“You’re in a band, cool!” I say, surprising myself about how impressed I am, after all it was only a few months ago that I was producing tracks for all sorts.

“Calm down,” he says but he’s still smiling, “I’m only the bass player.”

“What sort of stuff do you play?”

“Punky New Wave stuff,” he says clearly happy to be impressing me.

“Awesome! Do you write your own songs?” I lean in towards him.

“A couple, with our lead singer,” he replies modestly.

“A regular Paul McCartney aren’t you,” I say laughing a little. “Look, can I bring my friends along too?” I say remembering the bro code (or is that the ‘sis code’?)

I look back and see Poppy and Esse hanging back, Poppy looking glum.

“Not a problem.” He takes his bag off his back and rummages around inside it, pulling out three tickets. “Here you go. We get some complimentary tickets, they want to be sure there’s a good crowd. You get cheap drinks if you come in costume.”

“Thanks,” I say reading the small print about costume. This year’s theme is Heroes, Heroines and Villains. We talk for a few more minutes about his band and then he disappears off to double French.

Esse and Poppy are waiting for me when he leaves. “What did he want,” says Poppy and I can’t help but notice the slight emphasis she puts on ‘he’.

“He gave me these,” I say, showing them the tickets. Poppy looks suspicious; “They’re for all three of us,” I point out but she still looks doubtful.

“Wow, Emmy, these are amazing. We have to go,” says Esse; Poppy looks like she feels outmanoeuvred.

“How come he has tickets to give away?” she says suspiciously.

“He’s in one of the bands,” I say hoping my friend will cheer up.

“Oh my God, which one?” asks an excited Esse.

I tell her the name, A-to-M, which I think is pretty stupid.

“What do you think it means?” Esse asks and the two of them debate for a while what it could be, Esse thinks it spells ‘Atom’. After a while I stop laughing and put them out of their misery.

“Urgh, disgusting!” they exclaim in unison.

I just roll my eyes and say, “Boys!”

As we get to the school gates I can see Esse is wearing Poppy down telling her about all the bands on the bill and how her brother loves them. Esse’s brother is something of a hero to both of them. He came out about two or three years ago, which is not easy in a Nigerian family, now they live with their mother and her sister in a small rented flat. Esse hasn’t seen her father since and says she doesn’t want to.

“Have you got a fake ID?” I realise Poppy is talking to me.

“No.” I really don’t; there’s no way I can use Mark Healey’s ID. No one’s going to believe I’m a man in his mid-thirties with a driving licence I think sadly.

“We got ones from a friend of Esse’ brother, Esse could ask for you, although it did cost us £50 each.” Esse nods her head in agreement.

“Hmmm, I think I might have an idea.”

I was surprised when Julia went for it; I am even more surprised when she gets off the phone with Deepa. “She says yes!”

“She’ll get me ID that says I am eighteen?” I ask, still not quite believing it.

“Sure, after all you are thirty six.” I’m slightly shocked to hear Julia admit it as she’s continued to insist on the whole ‘Emma and Mummy’ thing. “Anyhow, we both think it’s good for you to be getting out and spending time with other teenagers. It’s good for your state of mind and for your cover.”

Sounds like Deepa and Julia have been talking quite a lot. I haven’t seen much of Deepa since the whole ‘weekend from hell’. I know she’s been giving Julia updates on the case but as far as I can tell there’d been no major developments. It sounds like the gang have gone to ground.

“Well thanks,” I let out a sigh of relief. I wasn’t even sure she was going to let me go at all after I’d told her it was Noah who gave me the tickets.

“I think it’ll be good for you,” she reiterates. “No one knows how much longer we might have to keep this up for. We both need to find ways to cope.” The last part she says more to herself. “Anyway, I get to make your costume!”

Julia’s hobby is sewing and making crafty things, and over the last few years she’s got really good at it. I guess it has been a release for her as her job has become less and less creative and fun.

“You don’t have to,” I say. “I was thinking I wouldn’t do the costume…”

“Don’t be silly,” Julia interrupts, “you can’t pass on the cheaper drinks, not on the pocket money I give you.” My ‘allowance’ or ‘pocket money’ has become a source of tension between the two of us. As I can’t access my own accounts I have become dependent on what Julia gives me.

“No kidding, true dat,” I say sarcastically.

“Hmmm, now what shall we go for?” Julia ruminates, ignoring me.

“Spiderman maybe?” I suggest half-heartedly.

“I hate to break it to you, Emma, but you’re more of a Mary-Jane or Gwen Stacey than Peter Parker now.” I’m impressed she knows the names; clearly she’s been paying attention. “No, leave it with me,” she mutters seeming to have forgotten me again, “I’ll have to go to the sewing shop in Chorlton…”

Better not rock the boat, I figure, I don’t want my privileges revoked.

Poppy, Esse and the others aren’t best pleased when I tell them I can’t coordinate costumes with them. I feel especially bad when I hear Peter, Ian, Paddy and Tony have all forked out for tickets. I regret it even more now.

Julia has me standing on the coffee table as she moves around me putting pins in for the final adjustments.

“I can’t go out like this!” I whine almost stamping my foot. Julia swats my leg and tells me to stand still.

“I think you look great Emma,” says Richard sitting at the dinner table. I know he only trying to be helpful but I still shoot him a dirty look, sadly this only makes him laugh causing me greater embarrassment. He came over to drop off some files but Julia invited him in for a glass of wine and to share our tea. God Almighty, why do I have to have an audience for this?

Julia has gone to great lengths to create a panto Robin Hood costume for me. In traditional panto, the male lead is played by a young woman, while many of the female parts are played by men. Supposedly this is for comic effect; in reality it was so Victorian men could ogle women’s legs. Before Richard got here Julia told me she thought it was funny, that I would be a man pretending to be a woman pretending to be a man.

My costume consists of green tights, little green shorts (which I’m impressed Julia made herself) and a little too flattering tunic/top with a brown hood. I feel incredibly exposed; especially my legs and the way the top pushes my breasts forward. I’m also none to pleased with the sly look on Richards face when he thinks I’m not looking.

“Well, you do love your hoodies sweetheart,” Julia had laughed when she first showed me.

“Right,” Julia says now, “lets get your hat!”

“A hat!” I exclaim and Richard chuckles at my discomfort.

The big day has come. It’s a Saturday and I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything all day. I keep checking my phone until six and then it’s time to get dressed in the dreaded costume. Now I’m standing in the hall looking at myself in the long mirror. I have to admit I look good, if a little weird. I’m not sure if I am happy that the tunic fits me so well.

“Have fun sweetheart,” Julia gives me a hug as I pull on my duffel coat.

“Thanks,” I say half exasperated. She’s put a lot of work into the costume and I don’t want to seem ungrateful.

“Don’t forget, curfew is twelve,” she warns me.

“Oh come on,” I protest, “it’s the weekend!” I can see her will is weakening; she’s probably been looking forward to having the flat to herself. I put my hands together like I am praying and give her the big eyes. “Pleeeeese,” I beg, totally shamelessly.

“Hmmm… oh, alright then. But the rule is you call or text not later than eleven-thirty and let me know where you are, what’s happening and when you’ll be back,” she relents.

“Great,” I spring up in joy and kiss her on her cheek. “Love you!” I say, mortified inside at how bouncy and kid-like I am being. Guess I’m excited.

“Hmmm,” she seems very thoughtful, “well look here’s an extra twenty.”
She opens her purse and hands me a note. “Don’t walk home, take a taxi if you have to, I can pay when you get back if need be.”

“Thanks, Mum!” I say, walking out the door.

“Emma!” Julia calls after me.

I turn, “Yup,”

“This is not a game. I will come and drag you out of wherever you are if I don’t hear from you by eleven-thirty, okay?” Her voice is serious. I nod agreement and try to make it to the stairs.

“Emma,” again.

“Yes?” I sigh

“I love you too,” then she shuts the door and I’m out of there.

Two things are on my mind as I walk down to the bus stop. First, the strange chat with Julia. I could swear I saw a sad look in her eyes as I left. Second, the cool breeze that reaches my nether regions through the thin material of my shorts. It makes me all too aware of what I have, and haven’t down there. I put both thoughts out of my head when I see the gang are waiting for me.

I am almost hoarse with laughter by the time I reach them; their costumes are all too brilliant. Peter is wearing in a bow tie and a tweed jacket, (“A Whovian till I die,” as he puts it). Esse has come in a three-pointed hat, ruffled shirt, pantaloons and fancy jacket (“18th century white dudes, the biggest villains of them all”). Tony makes an excellent Asian Oscar Wilde, Ian a knight and Paddy looks good as a rather sheepish Wonder Woman. Poppy has excelled herself and come dressed all in black with a large white needle printed on the front of her jumper (“heroin(e) and a villain”). I later find out her uncle is an artist with all the stuff for screen-printing.

“So come on, lady, let’s see what you’ve got,” says Poppy, her arms folded.

“You’ve come as Kermit the Frog?” asks Esse pointing at my green tights.

“I wish,” I say, wondering how she knows the reference.

Slowly I unbutton my duffel coat and pass it to Tony, who’s the nearest. Finally I put on the little green felt hat and show them the little toy bow and arrow Julia gave me.

“Ta dah!”

They all go silent - surely it isn’t THAT bad, I think, “Just remember that my mum spent ages on this,” I warn them.

Peter speaks first. “Emma, I think you’ve given me a Time Lord boner,” he says getting a glare from Paddy. Without realising it I fold my arms under my breasts for comfort. A second later I drop them to my side when I realise they are holding my breasts up even further.

As we get on the bus Poppy and I hold back to let the others get on. Just before I reach the first step Poppy whispers to me, “I wish you had told me, I’d have come as the Sheriff of Nottingham so I could keep you under lock and key,” before pinching me on the bum. I’m not sure how well the girl knows the story of Robin Hood…

First we wait in line with the other kids, swigging gin from a hip flask Esse had hidden in her costume. The night is cold but not unpleasantly so. I am pleased for the excuse to keep my coat on and prying eyes away, although Poppy forces me to keep my ‘cute’ little hat on. We got here early because Noah’s band is one of the first on. I haven’t been this early for a gig since university.

I notice that bitch Jessie and her friend Chantel further down the line. I give Jessie a sarcastic smile when she looks in my direction. She looks at me like she knows exactly where she thinks I should be keeping Robin Hood’s bow and arrow. No good love, you’re on my turf now.

After a wait of about forty minutes we’re finally in! The venue is full of other kids, loud and excited. I doubt that we are the only under aged kids in here.

Peter and Esse, who are the tallest in the group, head to the bar and we take the coats to the cloakroom. Another wait and then we are back, Esse and Peter beam at us carrying plastic cup filled with, what I am guessing is, very watered down lager.

We drink and laugh and watch the first band get ready. I don’t think much of them when they start, a cheap rip-off of the Libertines mixed with the plodding of late Oasis. They must have a friend who helped select the line up. The audience don’t seem to mind; I guess they are just happy to be here, or anticipating what’s next. As we watch, Poppy takes my hand. I let her at first but then she tries to put her arm around my waist. I pull back, smiling at her but not knowing what to say. How do I explain that I have a wife waiting for me at home who is pretending to be my mum and that I am really thirty six and have some tackle downstairs I really don’t think she wants to see?

In the end I take the coward’s way out and head to the toilets. After a quick whizz I stare at myself in the large mirror pretending to check out my make up (applied by Julia). There in front of me is this girl, both me and a new person. This girl has friends, a life, even someone who likes her, and whom she might like back. I feel profoundly sad; at some point in the future I am going to kill that girl in the mirror. I have to fight back a tear. Maybe holding hands isn’t so bad, just so long as it doesn’t go any further. Maybe this girl deserves something in her short life before I end it.

My mind made up, I head back only to find Noah’s band setting up on stage. He even waves at me; I see Poppy turn around and she doesn’t look happy. She’s been talking with Esse. As the band start up I grab her by the hand pull her forwards.

“Let’s go to the front,” I mouth at her, smiling. She doesn’t seem sure but Esse waves us on.

At the front we sway and jump to the music, they aren’t bad. Friends can hold hands and dream of what could / couldn’t be, I figure. We’re dancing together but as the songs progress Poppy keeps pulling me to her. At first I don’t mind but then her hands are on my backside, squeezing my cheeks. Even without Julia at home it is too much, too possessive. I break free. Then I see tears in her eyes and she turns and runs out of the venue. I look back and see Esse behind giving me a dirty look. Shit, I’ve really fucked up; I forgot how open and vulnerable the teenage heart is. I go after her.

I finally find her outside leaning against a wall smoking a cigarette. As I approach she starts coughing her lungs out; I suspect this is one of her first.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey,” she says back, her voice soft and frightened.

“You okay?” I ask, probably just as frightened as her.

“What do you care?” Now there’s defiance in her tone.

“I care a lot Pops.” Shit - I’m crying! “Look I’m new here, and when we left my old life, it was sudden.” I take a deep breath and promise myself that I will tell her as much of the truth as I can. I tell her that there was another relationship I left behind, that was broken too quickly, by events, so we didn’t have a proper ending. That I still feel guilty about it and that I need to go back and have that conversation.

It saddens me to my bones knowing how true it is. Suddenly I’m in floods of tears and begging her not to give up on me. Then she’s against me, pushing me against the wall. She uses her fingers to lift my chin and then we’re kissing. She is a passionate, assertive kisser and I find myself taking a submissive role.

Two rugby types wolf whistle at us and I show them my middle finger making Poppy laugh. After that the spell is broken.

“Do you want to go back inside?” Poppy asks. I shake my head; suddenly the gig doesn’t seem important.

“What if I walk you home?” Poppy suggests; the arcane chivalry of her offer touches me and I nod my head yes. She takes my hand then asks if that’s okay.

“Sure,” I say sounding goofy, “it’s just holding hands.” I’m not sure whom I am trying to remind. Poppy ducks back inside to get our coats, only now do I realise just how cold I am, and exposed. As I stand there a car drives past slowly. I can’t see who’s in there but I see the flash of a camera or a camera phone.

“What was that about?” says Poppy, making me jump.

“Just some shithead adding me to his wank bank,” I say, turning around.

“He better not,” says Poppy with exaggerated indignation, “this belongs to me,” she loops her fingers into the thin belt of my little shorts and pulls me to her kissing me quickly and taking me by surprise. Well, not quite yet.

Poppy reluctantly leaves me at the end of my road. The walk home took over an hour, with me hanging on to her hand the whole way. Before she leaves she pushes me against a tree and kisses me again. The girl really is assertive; I don’t remember any girls doing that to me the first time I was fifteen, I think with a smile on my face.

We left really early; it is still only eleven-fifteen. I decide to sneak back in as quietly as possible. I know I owe Julia a conversation but that can wait - I want to preserve as much of the night as possible. I ease the front door open and, once inside, close it as quietly as possible.

I see the light of the TV flickering in the living room and wonder if Julia has fallen asleep in front of it. I decide to risk checking and hope if Julia is awake she’ll let me slink off to bed without too many questions. But when I get to the living room it is silent and empty. The only sign of life is two half drunk glasses of wine on the coffee table. Funny, I think, Richard must have come round after I left; I hope it isn’t more work.

I go back out into the hall planning on listening to music on my headphone in my bedroom. Only now do I realise that the main bedroom door is ajar. Peeping inside I hear noises, soft music and whispered voices. I can’t help but look although I am terrified at what I will see.

Through the gloom of the candlelight, there’s only one still lit, I see two naked bodies pressed together. Julia and Richard are too focused on each other to notice me.

I go to the living room, frightened to walk past the main bedroom, and sit on the sofa my head in my hands. Suddenly I’m frightened that I will be discovered. I jump up and turn the TV off then sit back down resuming my former position. I’m crying; more than crying I’m weeping. I try to force my face deeper into my hands to cover the noise. I know I have no right to be upset, but still I am.

How long I’ve been sitting here for I don’t know. Time has stopped having any meaning, all I know is that I don’t want to move. Even breathing seems an enormous effort and I half wonder if I could end the pain by just stopping.
I only realise I am not alone when two arms go around me.

“Oh Emma, how long have you been here for?” It’s Julia. Looking up at the clock on the wall, I’d guess I have been sitting here from between thirty to forty five minutes.

“Richard just left and I saw your coat on the peg,” Julia is crying herself, “I am so sorry, I didn’t want…” her voice trails off to nothing.

“How long?” I ask; it’s clear she knows what I’m asking.

“Just a few weeks… I wasn’t sure yet, I wanted to tell you when the time was right.” I can see how upset she’s getting.

“It’s okay,” I say, smiling through the tears. “I just realised earlier tonight that we had reached the end. If it has come faster because of the situation I don’t know, but I think it has been coming for a while. I haven’t been there for you, not emotionally,” I stop because I am sobbing.

“I still love you,” says Julia, crushing me closer to her, “but I’m not in love with you, and I need to be with someone who makes me feel that way again.”

We hold each other for hours, talking about everything and nothing. I tell her about Poppy and how it is both weird and special. She tells me about Richard and how great he is. Eventually, at nearly three in the morning we go to bed together - not as husband and wife, or lovers, but as mother and daughter. As I fall asleep, her arm around me, I feel lighter than I have in a long time.

Part 4

We’re all sitting around in Peter’s Mum’s kitchen. Peter has his electric guitar attached to a little amp and I’m on an acoustic. Ian has a bass, which isn’t connected to anything and Paddy has a single snare drum.

“Okay, shall we try it one more time?” Peter asks. We all nod nervously and I notice Peter’s little sister watching us from the doorway.

“Hot topic is the way that we rhyme,” Esse sings, she has such a great natural voice.

“One step behind the drum style,” Poppy and I add in backing. I’m surprised at how good my voice sounds - if I didn’t know better I’d say I was pitch perfect. More than that, I’m complimenting Esse’s voice perfectly; normally this takes hours of practice or post-production to get right.

The song continues:

“Carol Rama and Elanor Antin
Yoko Ono and Carolee Schneeman
You're getting old, that's what they'll say, but
Don't give a damn I'm listening anyway”

Poppy and I keep on with the backing vocals, “Hot topic is the way that we rhyme.” At points I can tell Poppy is near to fits of giggles but she holds on.

Peter gets to his guitar solo and he’s pretty good. I mean, it’s mainly fuzz and feedback but considering he’s only been playing for a few months I’m impressed. Paddy, Peter and I are keeping together; it may feel like we’re always a second or two from falling apart but we never do. Ian’s bass is a second behind so I’m glad he hasn’t got an amp.

We get to the last part of the song where Esse lists names of heroes: “Gretchen Phillips and Cibo Matto.” I wonder if any of the others know who these people are, hell I wonder if I do? “Leslie Feinburg and Kermit the Frog,” I wince as Esse uses the nickname she gave me at the Halloween gig. I see Poppy grinning; I hope it doesn’t stick.

We all stop at different times, but that wasn’t bad. I look around and see the others smiling. I also look at Peter’s little sister, who’s still standing in the door way. She rolls her eyes and leaves but doesn’t say anything. The fact that she can’t find something to make fun of her brother about is probably the best compliment we’ll ever have.

As the others chat excitedly I excuse myself and go looking for the toilet. Peter’s house is a spacious semi-detached in Bohemian Chorlton. I can tell his mother is an arty type by all the pictures and paintings on the walls.
When I sit down on the toilet I notice a dream catcher hanging in the window and wonder who dreams in the toilet. I suppose it is a place of rest and contemplation if you want to look at it that way.

There are photos of Peter and his sister on the wall. Most of them are from when they were little. The one that draws my attention is a photo of Peter, probably no older than eight, sitting in the bath with his sister. They’re surrounded by toys, boats and ducks and are beaming up at the camera.
I notice that there are no pictures of Peter’s dad. All I know from Poppy is that Peter’s dad left a few years ago and that Peter doesn’t like to talk about it. I think about my own childhood and the way it was split into two - into three now.

Things are easier over the next few days. When I’m not with Poppy and the gang Julia and I hang out having ‘mum and daughter’ time, which mainly involves watching old movies whilst eating popcorn. I actually catch myself worrying what it’s doing to my figure!

On Wednesday, Richard takes us out for a meal and I play the good, ‘young adult’ daughter. I notice Richard is nervous around me; he’s trying hard to win me over. He tells me about his eldest Greta, who is off at University now. He thinks we’ll get along. These are all things in Emma’s future like university and meeting new people. I try to keep smiling but I feel sad. Most likely, the girl I see in the mirror every morning won’t get those chances.

It’s unspoken but, once this is over, I’ll probably go back to London and Julia will stay up here. I don’t know what she will say to Richard; perhaps she’ll say Emma has gone to live with her dad or maybe she’ll even tell him the truth. I suppose it shouldn’t matter to me, but it keeps going around in my head.

I see Poppy at school and most evenings. She seems comfortable in her assumption that she has me to herself and it breaks my heart that one day I will have to leave her behind. Perhaps I could ask Deepa if I can take a year off to be Emma? I can’t believe that I’m thinking that!

I’m becoming more aware of my body and the urges that come with it. One Physics lesson, Poppy squeezes my bum while no one is looking. I feel warmth spreading out from my privates; my first thought is that I’ve wet myself so I run off to the toilet to check. It is only when I get out into the corridor that I realise my mistake. I have to go sit in the girls’ toilets for five minutes feeling both frustrated and dumb.

When we’re out of school she likes to take me by surprise by pinching my bum or kissing me when I least expect it. I find myself taking the back seat in our relationship and it worries me that I may now be the bottom to Poppy’s top. Not that we’ve had sex - that can’t happen. I could hardly go back to being a man in his 30s after; despite my current physical reality it wouldn’t be right. Just another experience I’m about to deny Emma.

I find I’m checking myself out in the mirror more often, and in less and less clothes. I think I used to be frightened about how I would react to Emma’s body but now that it’s feeling more a part of me I worry less. I do wonder what it is that the staring boys are looking at. How does my body match up to others? The boobs are a little small, but not a bad shape. My legs are skinny and nobbly to my eyes, but I know Poppy likes them. I turn sideways on and wonder about the size of my bum. Fuck, I really am going full method on this.

The biggest downside is that I’m now no longer talking to Noah. I see him every now and then but he’s always off in the distance. I think about going down to where the playing fields meet the Sixth Form College grounds. The smokers hang out there, and even though I don’t smoke he does and I’d like to bump into him. Not sure what I’d say though. I can’t get away; Poppy has me under lock and key during break times.

The school bell rang nearly half and hour ago but we hung back in Mr Hulse’s English room helping him put the books away. It is a good way to avoid the crowds and now we can walk out of the school hand in hand. There are a few odd looks from some of the boys on the football pitch, but I don’t care.

The autumn air is getting cold as winter comes. I have added a little tartan scarf and woolly hat to my ‘duffel coat’ look. I notice that this smaller body feels the cold more. Poppy thinks the hat looks adorable.

“Why don’t you wear more skirts outside school?” she asks.

“I guess I feel more comfortable in jeans,” I say liking the feel of her arm around my waist.

“Those tight jeans of yours are probably more restrictive and revealing than most skirts,” she says looking down at me. I still find it weird that I have to look up at her.

“Hmmm,” I say. I expect the skirts she has in mind are a fair bit more restrictive and revealing than any of my jeans.

“Bugger!” Poppy stops suddenly. “I forgot my maths homework!” She looks at me and I see a flash of worry in her eyes. “Dad’s taking us to Aunty Linda’s in the Peaks at the weekend, I’ve only got tonight to do it.” She pulls at my hand. “Can you come back with me?”

I look at the clock on my phone; it is already late. “Aww, sorry Popsicle, Mum’s cooking a meal for Richard and me.” I see Poppy roll her eyes when I mention his name and I’m touched by her loyalty. “I’ll be in all sorts of trouble if I don’t get back.” Also, I don’t want to let Julia down. Poppy looks a little miffed but agrees.

“There’s always band practice after school tomorrow,” I say. Peter and Esse are keen that we keep practising. I feel a little bad; I think Poppy finds it a little dull as she doesn’t have much to do. “And there’s school too,” I add seeing Poppy’s sulky face.

“No good,” she says, grabbing me and pulling me to her, “I don’t get you to myself at school or the band, I can’t do cool things like this,” and she kisses me while squeezing my buttocks. Damn, she’s good, I think as she walks away.

Five minutes later a young man steps out from behind a car and asks me for directions to St. Peter’s Square. Odd - that’s in the centre of the city nowhere near here. I am about to tell him when a hand comes from behind me covering my mouth. I try to scream out but the hand is holding a rag that muffles my voice. A strong pair of arms holds me still.

I can smell something sweet and slightly tinged with chemicals – shit, chloroform! I try to struggle but other arms are now dragging me into the car. I hit and kick out as much as I can but it’s no use. The last thing I can remember is the feeling of hands binding me, and then I black out.

I do remember some sounds and smells from the journey but not much else. The noise of the traffic breaks through, the sound of rain against the windows, the tar-like smell of the cigarettes one of my captors smokes.

They must have used chloroform on me for a second time because the next thing I know I am waking up in a chair in a room somewhere. Just like in the hospital all those months ago I slowly become aware of my surroundings. My arms and legs are secured to the chair with what feels like rope, I try to speak but there’s something gagging me. What ever it is, it’s tied tightly and hurts like hell. In front of me is a bright light, so bright it is blinding me and blurring out the rest of the room.

Someone grabs my face holding it so I have to look into the light. I hear a voice, female I think, saying something about ‘if they want to see the girl again they need to play the game’. As my eyes get accustomed to the light I realise I’m staring at a camera. The voice has stopped; she just said something but I wasn’t listening. Out of the corner of my eye I see a hand with a needle.

I try to scream and move away but I can do neither. I hear counting backwards, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6… and then bliss. Just before I drift off I hear the female voice saying, “Tell Viktor it is done.”

Strange dreams; I am a mermaid caught in giant fisherman’s net. I am an adult baby girl stuck in a giant cot in our living room watching Julia eat her tea with Richard. I try to call out to her for help but I have a giant dummy stuck in my mouth. In each dream I’m Emma, not Mark.

I have moments of being more aware of my surroundings. One time I wake up and I’m lying on a bed in a room in what looks like some cheap hotel. There are two women with me – hookers maybe? From the mirror on the other wall I can see I’m still in my school uniform, tape binding my hands, arms and legs. I beg the women to get me help but the younger one just leaves the room and the older one strokes my hair and tries to reassure me in a language I don’t understand.

One time I wake up in a nightmare. I am on the same bed only this time I am naked, my hands are tied somewhere above my head. Standing above me is a young man, no older than mid-twenties. He looks lean, not an ounce of fat on him. His muscles are coiled like he’s expecting a fight. There must be some real pain deep down there; I’m terrified he’s about to take it out on me. I scream out but there are no words, just visceral fear. The young man leans down; he’s holding a knife. He traces the knife all over my body. He pushes down, but not hard enough to pierce my skin. “Calm down my angel, maybe I make you a woman, yes?”

I cry out again and this time the door to the room opens. In the mirror I see the older woman from before. Her face looks like it was once very beautiful, before it saw too many bad things. She screams at the man, mostly in the same language as before, but with a few words in English. I catch one phrase: “She is not to be damaged, not yet,” but that’s all. The man gets up and walks away from the bed and then the woman runs to my side.

“You are okay little one,” and she goes to untie my hands. Once my hands are free I curl up into a little ball weeping. The woman starts stroking my back but I won’t look at her. I just sob, begging her to let me go. Then I feel the needle go into my arm and I’m gone again.

In the second waking nightmare I’m tied to the bed again. There’s a camera above me, my mouth is held open in an O and I can feel a strap going around my head. I see a hand; whoever it belongs to is obscured by the bright light of the camera and the hand is holding a big dildo. I feel my eyes going wide in fear. The hand pushes the dildo through whatever it is holding my mouth open. It pushes at the back of my throat, making me want to choke. I fear that I could drown in my own vomit with it on.

The hand leaves it there and then pulls away. I hear a voice, male this time. It says, “If you don’t come forward, Mark Healey, then next time it will be a real cock in your daughter’s mouth.” Then I see the woman and again she has a needle. I shake my head no but it does nothing; I lose myself again.

I wake up; it’s the same room. On the bedside table there is a glass of orange juice. I notice I am wearing a nightshirt, one with a pink cartoon rabbit on it. The fabric is cheap but it’s clean. I find I’m able to push myself up, although my arms feel painful and weak. It is then that I notice the same woman again, sitting on the end of the bed.

“You should drink it,” she smiles and nods, “you need your strength.” I shake my head retreating as far from her as I can.

“You no worry, there are no drugs,” she reaches out a hand and touches my foot, I recoil immediately, “for you no more drugs. Today you go home.” I look at her quickly - is this a trick?

“You parents, they are sensible,” the woman smiles like she’s a friendly old teacher telling me I can go on the school trip to Chester Zoo, “so we go to meet your father and if you are both good then you can go free,” her voice sounds sickly and sweat but there’s menace behind it.

I see myself in the mirror again; I look like a scared little girl. I feel like one too.

“You would like to go home wouldn’t you?”

I nod my head, it’s all I want. To see Julia again, and Poppy, the gang and Deepa too – hell, even Richard.

“Good girl,” she smiles, “we will need to get you ready.”

She motions over to a chair, on which some clothes are set out. She watches me as I take off the nightshirt and put on the bra and knickers. It’s taking me an age to put the bra on, my fingers are shaking so much. When she offers to help I wave her away, the thought of her touching me sickens me. After that I put on a black t-shirt with a knock-off picture of the Angry Birds on it. I turn to her and she smiles, “And the trousers.”

I nod agreement and pull them on; they are Primark jeans. All the clothes fit pretty well; I guess she measured me while I was out cold. I feel my body shaking and I’m not sure if it’s fear or the drugs. When I’m done I look at her wanting to know what to do next. All rebellion has gone, I just want out. She holds up a roll of gaffer tape and tells me to hold my arms next to my body. She begins wrapping the tape so my arms are bound to my side and doesn’t stop until I have the torso of a mummy. I can wriggle my hands but I can’t lift or move my arms at all. The woman shows me a red jumper hoodie before she puts it over my head. When she’s finished it looks like I have no arms.

“Not much of a disguise is it?” she says to me, I am too frightened so I don’t say or do anything. “I can see you agree,” she says, bringing out a long black jacket and hanging it on my shoulders. It still looks stupid, but I imagine most people wont look twice.

“Okay little one, open wide,” she grins at me. I fear she is going to put a pill or something in there but instead she stuffs some silky material in my gob.

“Mmmmph!” I protest.

“Presents, from the girls,” she laughs.

The material smells and tastes bad, it takes me a while to realise they are soiled women’s knickers, the sadistic bitch. She can tell I’ve worked it out, I can see it in her eyes. She tapes over my mouth and pulls the hood of the hoodie up so it covers my face in shadow.

“There we are,” she admires her work, “pretty as a picture. Now, let’s take you to the car.” As I start to move she grabs my face again and forces me to look her in the eye

“This better go well, little girl, or when you come back maybe I give you to Luka,” - I assume that’s the bastard from my nightmares - “or perhaps I make you work with the girls. Who knows, maybe both,” she says and slaps my face gently. “You understand?” I nod my head; I’m trembling but I refuse to cry.

She leads me out of the room and we walk along corridors with peeling wallpaper and suspicious stains. I see closed doors and hear various sex noises leaving me in no doubt what sort of place I have been kept in. I wonder how many girls of my body’s age have been kept in here against their will, and how many made it out?

The sunlight blinds me as we exit through a fire door into a car park. Two men are waiting for me; a large, slightly overweight man in a suit and the lean, muscular, younger man from my nightmare. I scream into my gag and try to wriggle free, but I know it’s useless.

“Don’t fret child,” the woman says, “Luka and Mickey will take you from here.” She turns to the older man and says, “Mickey, you know what to do.” Mickey nods and gets into the driving seat of a black BMW. Luka takes my arm and drags me in the back where he buckles me into a seatbelt holding me still.

As the car drives off Luka whispers to me, “Perhaps it all goes wrong my angel, perhaps I kill your daddy and get to keep you.” I watch as he plays with his knife. Who are we going to meet? What are they going to do when there’s no dad to meet?

We drive through the streets. From the style of the houses and the size of the place I see we are back in London. Not central London but somewhere south of the river would be my guess. I keep an eye out looking for a tube station or some other landmark so I know where I am. I have to be prepared to run the first chance I get.

We pull into the car park of a hospital and I listen while Mickey complains to Luka about how much they charge for the parking as he finds a quite spot near the edge of the lot. As Luka drags me out of the car I look at the people in the distance, praying for one of them to look this way and notice that there’s something wrong. That’s the thing with London; everyone is trying hard not to notice everyone else. The two men lead me behind the main building and I am worried they are taking me there to kill me. I have to calm myself down; why would they have chosen such a public place?

As we come around a corner I see a figure standing there. It takes me a moment to realise it’s Julia; she looks so pale and emaciated, like the survivor from some terrible tragedy. When she sees us she almost throws up.

“Emma,” she calls out. The sound of her voice is visceral, almost more animal noise than human language.

“Ms Healey, or is that Riley?” asks Mickey.

Julia nods. “Either,” she says, her voice now little more than a whisper.

“And Mr Healey?” Mickey asks.

“I want to see Emma first.” Julia’s voice is stronger now.

Mickey nods at Luka and he roughly pulls my hood away. I blink back tears as I look Julia in the eyes. My heart leaps just seeing her but then it sinks again. I don’t want her here - they’re going to kill us, one way or another. We’ve seen their faces, there’s no way we’ll survive this.

“Take the tape away from her mouth,” Julia pleads, “let me speak to her.”

“Not now, after you’ve taken us to Mark,” Mickey replies. Julia reluctantly agrees and takes us in to the hospital through a back door.

“You’ll see,” she says, “he’s in a coma, he can’t testify against your friend.” She’s shaking a little. I wonder if Deepa even knows I am missing - surely she wouldn’t have authorised this?

She leads us through several long corridors and occasionally we pass someone like a nurse or visiting family. Luka puts his arm around my shoulder like he’s a boyfriend comforting his girlfriend. In my side I feel the point of his knife warning me not to take any chances.

Finally we come to a private room in a secluded part of the hospital. Julia looks around and then takes us in. There lying on the bed in front of me is my old body - it’s literally an out of body experience. The room is small but has two large wardrobes and a large set of computer like medical equipment. Julia hands Luka a key.

“Here,” she says, “you can lock the door.” She turns to Mickey, “I took it from a doctor.” He nods to Luka who goes over to the door.

Suddenly there’s a loud bang and the door flies open. Luka is caught unawares and knocked to the floor. Two armed men in police uniforms jump out of the cupboards but Mickey is faster on the uptake than Luka and avoids capture. At first I’m frightened he’ll go for Julia but I soon see that’s not his purpose. He’s pulled out a gun and aimed at the head of my body. That’s why they risked capture - even if they go down their boss will go free and they will have an easy life in prison. The others are too far away to stop him, I put out my leg tripping him, but it’s too late. He pulls the trigger and everything goes into slow motion. I’m on my knees silently screaming into my gag as the bullets explode into the head I lived in for thirty-six years. To be honest I don’t remember much after that, just fragments.

I do remember Deepa, pale faced, apologising to me and ordering people around. I remember Julia in tears hugging me close, pulling the tape from my body. I couldn’t understand much but from what I could, I got the impression she had been sent the videos the gang had made. I remember Richard coming in and consoling her. First he took Julia in his arms and then me as well. That’s when I broke down crying.

There was a nurse called Mary who pulled me away from the commotion, giving me a check over.

“Was that your father?” she asked. I nodded my head, not sure what to say. The tears were pouring out again. She hugged me as well; it’s funny how people feel free to hug a girl or a woman when they wouldn’t feel they could do the same for a boy or a man.

Deepa came over to tell me that they were closing down the gang’s organisation all across London. That they had been able to track me because of a device in side my body (first I’d heard of it!). Also that they had needed to get me out before they could raid the places or they would have put me at too much risk, that’s why they had agreed to the exchange. She’s confident they can clear up the whole organisation.

Julia, Poppy and her dad are waiting for me when the hospital lets me go. Poppy knows about the kidnapping, and that I was in the witness relocation programme now. I haven’t yet told her all the rest. I was hospitalised for about a week while the drugs left my body. The first couple of days had gone by in a haze due to the medication I’d been given. The final days were boring as hell as they brought down the dosage but I don’t mind. I’ve spent far too much time medicated in recent months; I don’t care to repeat any of those experiences.

Poppy and Julia still seem a little unsure of each other but are making an effort to get along for my sake. I keep bursting into tears and then laughing like crazy as my mind slips between the horror of what I have been through and how lucky I am to be alive. Poppy has brought a card signed by all our friends as well as a hand drawn comic made by Peter and Paddy. The comic is called ‘Emmy Vs the Bad People’ and shows a cartoon superhero version of myself taking on stylised robbers / kidnappers. I begin to cry,unsure whether it’s because of the thoughtfulness of the gift, or because the reality was so different.

Poppy’s dad Malcolm drives us home. Julia sits in the front with him making small talk and playing with the radio. Every now and then she glances back at me to make sure I’m okay, I can see tears in her eyes. For my own part I feel the calmest I’ve felt in years. I watch the traffic and the countryside go past through the window. Poppy lets me sit in silence resting her hand on my bare foot.

“Emma, get a move on, we’re supposed to be meeting them in ten minutes,” I hear Judy shouting to me from the hallway. I just stand there eyeing up the dress on the hanger. It’s a red A-line dress, with petticoats that push the skirt out slightly, made from a light, silk-like fabric that is cool to the touch.

I have to admit it could be worse; the simple, stylish design will cover my chest and my legs down to my knees. My chest is becoming a problem - I’m sure it is getting bigger. Despite the modesty this dress feels much more feminine than what I am used to, even as a girl.

“You’re not even dressed yet!” I turn to see an angry Julia, arms folded, standing in the open door.I take a deep breath; I know this is important to her and I want to do it for her sake.

“I need a build-up before I can wear something like that,” I say feeling the material of the dress’s hemline between my thumb and my forefinger. Julia comes up next to me and gives me a hug.

“Everyone’s excited about meeting you, sweetheart. I know they’re going to love you, my lovely daughter,” she beams at me. I smile back

“They better!” I take a deep breath. “Okay, lets do this thing. Can you give me a hand?”

She helps me pull the dress on over my head. I’m careful to make sure none of my make-up rubs off on the material. I’ve only used a little but I still don’t want to have to re-do it. It took me a hell of a long time, especially as I wouldn’t let Julia help me. Once it’s over my head she zips me up at my back and smoothes the fabric into place.

“Right, young lady,” she says, “I’ll grab my purse and then we’ll be off.”

Once she leaves the room I open a draw and pull out a thin black cashmere top and pull it over the dress. It clings to my body, and other than hide my arms it doesn’t do much but somehow it makes the outfit feel a little more ‘me’. By the time Julia is back I have my coat on and I am ready to go.

“Okay kiddo,” she smiles, “lets go and face the Donaldsons.”

The restaurant is only a short drive away in Didsbury and I remain silent watching the early December rain against the window. While Julia looks for a parking spot I ask her, “So tell me who they are again?” I’ve been asking her repeatedly since she told me I was going to be meeting Richard’s children, but she humours me.

“Well there’s Greta, she’s Richard’s oldest. She started university in September and is studying something to do with computers at Swansea.” She looks at me, pausing to check that I’m taking this in. “Rich thinks you two will get on as you’re both into music.” Silently I try to make a list of things we can talk about. “Then there are the six year old twins, both boys. They’re very excited about gaining another big sister,” she says. Do I detect hesitation in her voice?

‘Big sister’. I roll it around in my head, trying to get used to the idea. Apart from Aunty June, who raised me after my parents passed away, I don’t really have much family. I smile when I think of what June will think when we explain what has happened over the last few months.

Richard and his family are waiting for us outside the restaurant, which is an old Italian place, one the twins love because of the ice-cream. The twins are talking loudly and excitedly as we cross the road but go silent and hide behind their dad when they see me. I also notice another person; a guy in his early twenties standing next to the girl I guess is Greta.

Richard introduces everyone to me; the twins Alfie and Oscar who seem both scared and deeply intrigued by me, then Greta and George, her boyfriend from university. I give Julia a dirty look, as she banned me from bringing Poppy. Julia just looks away pretending not to notice. I feel a little put upon; the group has been divided into two, the grown up couples and the little kids. I don’t like the side of the line I’ve been put on. I swallow down my pride - I’m doing this for Julia, I remind myself.

We’re seated near the back, a waiter putting two tables together to accommodate all of us. I have Julia and Richard either side of me and Greta and George opposite. The twins sit opposite Richard so he can keep an eye on them.

I make small talk with Greta and George, asking them what they are studying at. Greta tells me something terribly complicated that I forget almost a soon as she has said it. George however tells me he is studying creative writing, which piques my interest.

“Really? I’m thinking of creative writing. English is my favourite subject, but I’m not quite sure of what I could do with it afterwards,” I say breathlessly. It feels funny to be talking openly about Emma’s future. It fills me with happiness to think she’ll get to experience university.

I think of how Deepa offered to have a new body created for me, nearer my original size and age. I didn’t have to think for long - I’d seen Mark die, I couldn’t face it happening to Emma as well. Deepa had said it would take some time to sort the legal side of things out but that she would support me.

“You shouldn’t worry about it,” Greta says, “the way things are going with the economy and all, you never know what’ll happen. Better to spend three years doing something you love.” We continue chatting about what we want to do.

“Well, you may all be excited about going off into the world but I’m just glad that I still have my daughter at home for at least another couple of years,” Julia says, ruffling my hair while I make an ‘Aww, Mum!’ face.

“Excuse me...”

I realise one of the twins, Alfie I think, is trying to ask me something.

“Yes?” I answer him.

“Are you going to make us play with dollies?” he asks up front. I wonder if someone at school has been teasing him. I have no experience of dolls, nor have I any desire to gain any.

“No, I have to admit I was a bit of a tomboy when I was little like you,” I catch Richard giving me a wry smile. By now he knows my true history; Julia and Deepa told him during the kidnapping. He’s promised not to tell any of the kids though, which I’m thankful for.

I can tell the phrase ‘when I was little like you’ hasn’t gone down too well with either twin. Alfie turns to Julia and says, “But she’s not that much bigger than us,” causing the whole table to laugh and me to blush, cursing again the high blush setting of this body - my body.

As the food arrives I stay silent watching the dynamic around the table. Already the twins seem to be accepting Julia as a kind of mother figure. Greta is a little more aloof. She must be old enough to remember their real mother and to be fair, she’s not unfriendly. The way she acts is closer to the way you would when a close friend introduces you to their new girlfriend. Greta has clearly got it bad for George, which helps me forgive her for having him here instead of Poppy. I guess Richard and Julia didn’t have much choice; they couldn’t have refused to bring him after he travelled up all the way from Swansea with Greta.

Before the deserts come out Richard and Julia ask for everyone’s attention. I wonder what they are going to announce - they can’t be getting married already, can they? Just thinking it gives me a shock.

“Julia and I wanted to ask you all a question,” Richard says looking around the table. “Who here fancies spending Christmas in the Lake District?” - the boys yelp with excitement at the mention of Christmas - “because we were thinking of renting a cottage so we can fit everyone in.”

“There would be room for you too, dear,” says Julia to George. I can see that Greta looks excited. I’m guessing I’ll be getting to know them both better soon.

“And Poppy too?” I ask, testing the waters.

“Well maybe…” Julia starts. I’m not sure what she has against Poppy - a little envy, hurt feelings? Maybe she suspects that we were at it before the Halloween party. It’s possible she’s figured out that Poppy was the mastermind behind the Arndale heist and thinks she’s a bad influence. Whatever, it’ll need to be tackled at some point.

“Who’s Poppy?” Oscar and Alfie ask in union.

“My girlfriend,” I say with just a hint of pride as I think of her elegant figure and her goofy smile.

Oscar looks at his dad and states, “Emma has a girlfriend just like Alexia’s mummy,” making everyone around the table laugh.

“Thank you, kidder,” Richard says as his son looks confused over what we’re laughing at.

“Really,” says Greta, “you’re gay? I’m impressed.”

“It’s not exactly an achievement, it’s something you are or are not,” I say, wishing everyone would stop looking at me.

“Still, being out at fifteen is pretty awesome,” George says looking at me with what may be actual respect.

“You know, you’d be welcome to come and visit us in Swansea sometime,” says Greta. “Your girlfriend too,” she adds.

An interesting proposition; maybe there’s something to this ‘sister’ lark? Rich looks happy at the two families gelling but Julia looks a little unsure. The twins are protesting that they should be allowed to visit their sister for a ‘sleep over’ as well. I don’t think I’ve made a great first impression with them. I think they see me as competition for the attention of their dad and sister.

As we leave the restaurant, them heading back to their place, Julia and I to ours, I check my phone. There’s a text from Esse; it’s a photo of her and Poppy playing with Peter in the band. It seems like they are having a lot of fun and I can’t wait to join them tomorrow. I find that I’m laughing to myself; Emma lives and Mark is at rest - both are happy. Julia links her arm with mine.

“Have you still got that fake ID?” she asks.

“Er, yes,” I reply, not sure if I’m about to be in trouble.

“Good, let’s drive home and then go for a drink. The night’s still young.”

Thanks as always to Robyn Hood, Emily and Cressar. And to everyone who has commented and kept with the story :)

Part 5 The calm before the storm

Poppy runs her fingers along my newly cut fringe.

"Cool," she says, finding the little kink caused by the way my hair falls, "it suits you, pixie girl." She smiles mischievously knowing that I hate it when she talks to me like I’m a child. "I feel sorry for you, Emmy," she adds.

"Huh?"

"You look hot when you’re cross." She looks me in the eye, making my body go all tingly.

We’re sitting on a bench over looking the lake in Chorlton Water Park. Despite its name there are no water slides in the park because it’s a nature reserve on the edge of the river Mersey in south Manchester. As it’s late December we pretty much have the place to ourselves.

Getting my hair chopped at this time of year perhaps wasn't the best plan. Once Poppy has finished admiring my pixie cut I pull my woolly hat back on.

"What did The Dragon say?" Poppy asks.

I give her a look of disapproval. I’m not sure why there’s so much animosity between Julia and Poppy and I’d hoped it would have disappeared in the fall out from my kidnapping.

"Julia," - I correct myself - "Mum likes it." At least she was happy that she'd talked me down from anything too drastic, which she feared would be me trying to kick against being Emma. I look down at the shopping bags at my feet; I’m trying to find my own look, just like a typical teenager I guess.

The bags are full of Christmas presents for others and clothes for me, all bought from Chorlton's many second hand/charity shops. One bag has a clingy green dress Poppy persuaded me to buy. I doubt I'll ever be able to wear it. When I think how much this stuff would go for in a vintage shop in East London it makes my head spin. I'm surprised no one has thought to start a business buying in Manchester and selling in London; then again, someone probably has.

"So have you got your Mum and the Donaldson's something?" Poppy asks. I know she’s anxious about Christmas as we’ll be apart.

"I've got Richard that shirt, and Mum the necklace you picked out," I tell her.

My finances are tight; the money from my 'Mark' days is tied up in legal wrangling to do with my 'official status'. I don't know too much about it, only that Julia says it will take some time to sort out as there is so little legal precedent in this area.

"Mum’s buying something for the twins, which she'll put my name on. That just leaves George and Greta," I turn away hoping Poppy doesn't notice me blushing slightly when I mention Greta. I think how cool she looks with her long blonde hair.

I keep quiet as Poppy tells me about her family's Christmas plans. I was very touched when Poppy's Dad's invited me to join them in Scotland, but I had to turn them down. After my ordeal a few weeks ago I don't really feel strong enough to spend the holidays with a family I hardly know. Ironically that's what I am doing with the Donaldsons, but at least I'll have Julia there. After spending so many Christmases together, I’m not ready to break with tradition just yet. I watch a robin near the edge of the water as it picks at the half frozen ground. So far the winter has been mild but I wonder what’s in store for the little bird when the cold spell everyone is predicting comes in.

"I said when are you off, cloth ears?" I realise Poppy is speaking to me.

"Oh, sorry Popsicle," the robin is sticking his head in an discarded crisp packet, "my head’s in the clouds. We go on Wednesday. Two days," I add moronically, like she doesn't know when Wednesday is. "How about you?"

"Tonight," she says in a huff. I know she’s feeling anxiety about us being apart, more so than a normal teenage crush, because of recent events. I wish everyone would stop treating me like I'm made of fine bone china.

Poppy has been protective of me since I got back from the London hospital. She comes over every afternoon after school and sits with me. I am impressed with her ability to just be quiet and listen to records, or read and not pressure me into doing anything.

The only time I saw her break was when a right wing politician came on the radio talking about benefit cheats or something and she went into a rant about what a bastard he is. It was almost comical to see her arms moving around in such an animated way. Other than that she has a talent for just letting me be, for which I’m immensely grateful.

"We should do something when we all get back - the whole gang," she says.

I give a little none committal grunt. I'm not sure I’m up to a crowd yet, although I am supposed to be returning to school in the new year anyway. Poppy looks away and her voice goes quiet.

"It's my birthday on the sixth," she says almost in a whisper.

"Oh my GOD! Pops, we've got to celebrate!" Am I squealing? Dear God, I think I am...

Poppy looks happy as she turns around. I guess she must’ve been worrying how I would react. I feel bad; I must’ve been a right moody cow over the last few weeks.

"What do you want to do?" I ask enthusiastically. I see her looking at me strangely then she leans in and kisses me. Her height and the force of the kiss forces me to tilt my head back. I can feel her hand on my leg through the many layers of clothing I am wearing. My body seems to tingle from head to toe. How do girls deal with this? I can hardly sit still.

"What was that for?" I ask feeling all fuzzy and unclear in my head.

"For being so enthusiastic," she smiles, she leans in again and kisses me on the cheek. "You really do have the cheekbones for that hair cut."

I blush. I can only imagine I have gone beetroot red. Poppy puts her arm around me. "I wonder if Dad would let me have a party?"

We talk excitedly, making plans. I want the band to play. We may not be ready, but we could probably get away with just doing a couple of songs. This goes on for quite some time before the dying light and Poppy's need to go home and pack forces us to leave. Even through my warm mittens I can feel the strength of Poppy's fingers as we walk hand in hand. After I have seen her to her door I start to get a minor panic attack about our being separated for a whole week.

We’re driving up separately from the Donaldsons so we can have the use of both cars. I can feel Julia watching me out of the corner of her eye. The traffic was pretty bad coming out of Manchester but now we are on the M6 the route north seems clear. I rest my head against the window closing my eyes and seeing the colours created by the weak December sun coming though my eyelids.

"How are you holding up?" I've come to dread this question. I glance at Julia, who’s trying to look nonchalant.

"I'm okay… recovering," This, I've come to learn, is the safest response. I can see Julia wants more. "Every now and again I completely freak out. This all seems so unreal." I feel myself choke up, raw emotion close to the surface. "Sometimes I imagine I’m back there..." my voice trails off, going very quiet. For a moment I have the urge to break out, to open the car door and fling myself out, desperate to escape, but it passes.

Julia leans over and squeezes my knee. She doesn't say anything. I can see she wants to but I’m glad she doesn't push me.

"Shall we stop at the next service station?" she asks. "Bacon butties for lunch?"

I laugh a little and nod yes. I’m crying. I seem to be doing that a lot recently, only this time it’s out of happiness. I have no idea why I would see motorway service station food as such a treat, but it sounds great.

The cottage is hidden from the road by an old dry-stone-wall. We drive past it several times cursing the sat-nav on Julia's phone before spotting the drive. It’s all worth it when we park and see the view. The hills and the lake stretches out before us. I think I can spot a little boat; I'm not sure which lake it is, though; I'll have to look it up. The water looks dark and forbidding this time of the year but I’m still excited about making a trip down there at some point.

Richard comes out to greet us, smiling broadly. The twins are running around the car trying to get a peek at the presents we’ve brought. Alfie and Oscar look like little Michelin men in their puffer jackets.

"Emmy," asks Oscar, "have you bought me a present?" When I wink at him he grins from ear to ear.

"Any sign of Greta and George?" I hear Julia asking.

"Not yet, it'll be a while," says Richard, "they’re coming all the way from Swansea by train."

"Dear me," Julia replies, "that must take hours. How many changes do they have to make?"

I leave them discussing changing trains at Crewe and go open the boot of the car. The twins help me carry bags into the house, it is sweet how they work together to carry one of the bigger bags. I get a pang of something, maybe nostalgia, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

As we wait for Greta and George to arrive I get settled into my room. It’s the smallest in the cottage, only just big enough for a kid's sized bed. Ruefully I note that I can lie down easily on it. In my past life my feet would hang over the end of any bed smaller than a Queen size. My room is at the end of a corridor, next to it on the left is the double room Greta and George will be sleeping in and on the right is the bedroom the twins will be sharing. My window overlooks a stone pathway that leads down into a clump of trees. The trees are bare, having lost their leaves to autumn a long time ago. I sit on the bed texting Poppy but get frustrated when my phone can't get a signal. I catch a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror. I am wearing my usual skinny jeans and jumper, with a plaid shirt/blouse underneath. I look tomboyish with my pixie cut. I can feel my bra strap pulling at me underneath my clothes; it reinforces how odd I still find this body.

I go downstairs and retrieve my coat. Julia and Richard are in the kitchen discussing what supplies need to be brought. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and they don't want to have to go out shopping again.

"Don't worry, I'll stop at the big Tesco when I go to pick Greta up," I hear Richard saying.

"That could take hours - Greta and George are going to be knackered," Julia replies.

"Hey guys," I cut in, "I'm heading outside to try and find a better signal." I hold up my phone like they don't know what a mobile looks like.

"Sure sweetheart," says Julia, "just stay close by, we may have to head out in a minute."

With that, I retrieve my duffel coat and Converses and I am gone. There are two paths leading away from the front of the house, one to the left that leads up the hill and one to the right that leads past my bedroom window and down into the trees. I take the one on the left.

I’m walking up the hill with my phone held out in front of me, not really looking where I’m going. I've just got one bar when I trip and stumble on a large rock causing me to topple over. In freefall I roll partway down the hill until a tree stops me.

I get up groaning. I can feel that my left arm is bruised and I’m slightly alarmed to see that there’s a mixture of blood and mud covering my hands. After a few moments searching I’m reassured that Ive only grazed myself. For the next five minutes my heart is in my mouth as I search for my phone. When I do eventually find it I notice the screen is a little chipped, but thankfully it is still functional.

Hobbling a little I make it a bit further up the hill, turn and take a selfie with the lake behind me. It takes a frustratingly long time to send it in a text message to Poppy. When it's done I head back down the hill, this time taking much more care where I’m treading.

"What happened to you?" Julia asks when I step in the door. I look down and see that, while my coat isn't too bad, my jeans are completely caked in mud.

"Took a trip," I say smiling, holding my arms out like a scarecrow. "I lost my footing and slipped," I clarify.

"Staring at that phone no doubt," Julia accuses me shrewdly.

"No," I reply, unconvincingly.

"You better go up and shower," Julia says, rolling her eyes at me.

I head back to my room from the shower feeling a lot better. There's something about hot water and this sensitive skin. My skin is glowing, partly from the heat and partly because I have Poppy on my mind as I wash. Once back in my room I pull out my two suitcases. Girls have so much more to take with them when they go away. Julia packed my bags as I had to go to get checked over by Doctor Fields the day before we left. I don’t think she trusted me to bring everything I would need. She was suspicious I'd deliberately leave behind some part of my feminine grooming regime. Speaking of which, I notice a pink pack of tampons, a delightful reminder of what mother nature has waiting for me in about a week's time.

As I rummage through both the cases I notice something strange; apart from the jeans I wore here I have no trousers at all. Damn Julia, she’s packed dresses, skirts and one pair of very small denim shorts which I guess I'm supposed to wear with thick winter tights. Damn her, I’m going to have to go dressed all girly for the rest of the holidays. This can't be a coincidence.

After looking at the options for a while I settle on the red A-line dress I wore to the restaurant. At least the colour’s festive and it goes with the silly Christmas jumper Esse got me. I laugh a little as I see the dumb looking knitted reindeer smiling back at me. Once dressed I go back downstairs ready to give Julia a piece of my mind, if I can only get her on her own.

All four of them are in the living room, Richard on his mobile (obviously his provider can get better reception up here) and Julia sitting on the floor playing with the twins. As I sit on the sofa I notice Julia giving me an odd look. It takes a few seconds for me to work out that I need to keep my legs together.

"Are you okay, Emma?" asks Richard as he puts his phone away. I must be bright red again.

"Er sure, I just came out of the shower," I stammer. Richard looks unconvinced but lets it go.

"Greta's one stop away from the train station. Who wants to come with me to pick up their sister?" He aims the last bit at the two boys, both of whom shake their head. I don't blame them, it looks frightful out there.

"We need to do some shopping as well," says Julia, looking uncertainly at the two boys.

"Would you prefer to go with Julia?" asks Richard and again they both shake their heads. He looks tired and exasperated. "I guess I can do both..." he starts.

"I could look after the twins," I offer, "I bet they really just want to stay in the warm with me and Sponge Bob" They are mad for Sponge Bob, and who could blame them?

Both boys look hopefully between Richard and myself.

"I don't know..." starts Julia.

"Come on, it'll be fine, you know you can trust me," I say to her trying to assuage her worries.

"I don't know, you haven't been back long, not since your..." she trails off again; I can see even thinking about my kidnapping is bringing her close to tears, which touches me.

"Look, I'm not some fragile little doll. I can handle an hour alone with these two. I am sure they’ll be as good as gold." As if on cue, bothboys look up at Richard and Julia with angelic expressions.

Julia and Richard look at each other, clearly close to folding, so I go for the kill, "One of you doing both the shopping and picking up Greta and George will take ages. It'll be much quicker if one does the shopping and the other goes to the station. Let me help."

Richard shrugs his shoulders. I've won!

"Thanks, Emma," he says before heading out.

As they get ready to leave I slide down on to the floor next to the boys, being careful to keep my legs together this time. Oscar picks up one of his toy cars and drives it over my arms and shoulders, making car noises as he goes. Once I hear the front door closing I turn to them both.

"Okay, what sort of game shall we play," I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster; I’m determined to prove that I’m up to this.

"Hide and seek!" shouts Oscar, his brother jumping up in agreement almost immediately.

"Okay then, you two go and hide. I'll count to ten and then come and find you!" I say. They both run off in howls of laughter. I put my hands over my eyes and count down from ten in an exaggerated manner. It’s not altogether hard to find them as they’re both cackling like mad. Still, I have to walk around the room a couple of times to make it look less easy.

"Okay," says Oscar, when I've found them both, "now it’s your turn!" and he points at me in an exaggerated manner.

His brother joins in, "You go hide upstairs!"

"Okay," I say, running off.

I can hear them counting (missing a few numbers, the little rascals) as I look for somewhere to hide. In what will be Greta's room I spot an old- fashioned lampshade, the sort with the fussy tassels around the bottom. I figure I'll give the boys a laugh and put it on my head, standing straight like a lamp my hands at my side. I can hear them whispering as they climb the stairs. I smile to myself as they walk from room to room. I know when they have found me because I hear Alfie laughing, then the lampshade being pulled off my head.

Oscar is howling with laughter but Alfie points at me, "That's not what you’re supposed to do!" He sounds annoyed. "Hide properly!" he orders.

"Okay, okay," I say to mollify him, "I'll go and hide again."

The boys stay in Greta's room as I search for somewhere new to hide. I notice the door to their room is open and I spy an old wardrobe, the sort from the 1940s or 50s, with dark wood and a little bronze lock and key. I know it’s where the boys keep their toys and clothes, but seeing as they are all over the floor it must be empty. I climb inside, curling up into a little ball and pulling the door shut, but with just a tiny crack so I can see out.

I sit there a while before I hear their little footsteps. They wander around the room whispering things like, " Look under the bed," and "Under the sheets!" Eventually they get close to the wardrobe. I can hear them whispering and laughing but I can't make out what they’re saying. Alfie comes close to the door, I can see his little face smiling through the crack and I am convinced I am about to be discovered. Then it goes dark. I hear a click and the boys running out in fits of giggles.

It takes me a moment to realise what has happened. I push against the door but it doesn't budge. I give it a harder shove but still nothing. I don't have the strength in either my arms or my legs to break out.

"Help!" I shout, feeling panic taking hold of my body, "please boys, let me out!" Even through the rising fear I hate how pathetic my voice sounds. I’m sure I can feel them their standing just around the doorway.

"Please," I say more as a sob than a word. The wind blows the long curtains and the thin strip of light coming from under the door flickers. A dark part of my mind imagines a man standing on the other side, someone like Luka who threatened to sexually assault me. I know it isn't true but visceral fear has taken over from logic and I begin shouting and screaming and trying to kick out.

Immediately I realise it’s a mistake; I hear the boys running off down the stairs in tears but I can't help myself. I’m crying and shaking and I have to hug myself to try and calm down. I don't know how long it takes but it seems like a very long time indeed.

Finally I am calm enough to take stock of the situation. My emotions are near the surface and likely to explode at any time. I can hear the TV on downstairs and try to call out to Oscar and Alfie but my voice is too weak and I think I must have scared them too much.

I feel like an idiot - if I had stayed calm the boys would have probably let me out in a few minutes, but this reminds me too much of my former captivity. It’s probably only half an hour before I hear the front door opening, but it feels much longer. I’ve had to struggle the whole time to keep from being overwhelmed by irrational fear again.

I hear voices in the hallway, the boys are saying something and then I hear hurried feet on the stairs. It’s only moments before the wardrobe door opens and I see Julia, Greta, George and Richard standing there looking down at me. I must look a complete state with tears running down my eyes. Richard helps me up.

"Did the boys do this to you?" he asks , anger in his voice. I nod, stifling back a tear. "Right, the little buggers!" he says and storms off downstairs.

I’m surprised when Greta takes hold of me and gives me a hug. I feel her breasts pressing into my chin and neck and mine into her flat stomach. It gives me a little jolt of electricity, shutting the panic out of my mind and finally calming me down. After I've settled a little, Julia speaks to me.

"Emma, that was really irresponsible," Huh?! I hadn't expected that.

"Those little buggers locked me in a wardrobe," I say indignantly and I notice Greta and George sliding away. "I had a bloody panic attack!" I'm on a roll now. "I was having flashbacks to the kidnapping."

I see the colour draining from her face; she knows I have hardly spoken directly about my experience.

"I know darling," she says, her voice soft and low but determined as she makes a move to come towards me, "but you shouldn't have got in the wardrobe like that. What if one of the boys had copied you? They could have suffocated before we found them."

I hadn't thought of that and now I feel bad as well as spooked. I can feel my mouth forming a pouty expression and the tears starting again. Then I feel Julia's arms around me.

"It's okay honey, no one expects you to be ready to take on any responsibility just yet. You need to take little steps, one at a time." Her voice is soothing to me and I start to cry again. Partly it’s a release of tension and emotions, but it’s also out of frustration. I shouldn't keep fucking up like this.

We go downstairs where the boys look ashen faced; I guess their dad just let them have it. There are tears all around, but we hug and make up. Alfie and Oscar even let me read them a story. We sit together on the big armchair as I give them my best rendition of the Gruffalo. Stroking Oscar's messy hair de-stresses me and gives me an odd sense of contentment.

Christmas Eve is here and the house is mostly quiet. The boys are being as good as possible, aware that the judgement of Santa is upon them. Richard and Julia are curled up on the sofa both with large glasses of wine.

Greta and George have been upstairs for a little too long on their own. Wrapping presents they claim. None of us has mentioned it but I can tell Richard is more than a little uneasy. When they finally come downstairs I notice George has a different shirt on. Greta is wearing the same jumper dress and tights, only her hair looks a little dishevelled. She looking amazing as always and I note it has an effect on me. Is it arousal, or jealousy, or perhaps both? As she reaches up to put her long blond hair into a ponytail I feel my mind go a little fuzzy.

That makes me think about Poppy, and the fact she'll be sixteen soon. I feel a warmth radiating around my private parts, but also a sense of confusion. What does that mean; is it wrong for me to fancy a sixteen year old? The kidnapping took all discussion of such things off the table but it won't be long before Poppy wants to do more than just kiss and hold hands. With all this going through my mind I haven't noticed that Greta just asked me something.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," I say.

"Would you like to come to the pub with us?" she says again, looking at Richard and Julia to see if they’re automatically going to object.

"Fine by me," Richard says, looking at Julia; they must have caught the excited look on my face.

"I guess so." She gets up and walks over to the coat stand. I wonder what she’s doing for a moment before she produces a twenty pound note and hands it to Greta.

"Just look after Emma." I begin to protest but Julia stops me. "Not because she isn't responsible, but because she's been through a very traumatic experience recently and anyone would need looking after in the same situation."

I’m mollified a little, although I don't know why Julia couldn't have given me the money. I'm not keen to push it any further as I don't want miss out on drinking with Greta and George. Just going to the pub seems thrillingly adult after three months of enforced teenage life. Once Julia has turned away George leans towards me.

"Do you have any ID?" he asks quietly. The three of us look at the boys playing but they don't seem interested.

"I do," I reply. It's one of the few nods to my former adult self that Julia has let me keep. I suddenly stop and look down at myself. I’m wearing leggings and an old t-shirt of Julia's that’s like a dress on me.

"I've got to change!" I blurt out. George and Greta laugh, I guess at the expression on my face. I can see Julia smiling out of the corner of my eye. No doubt my typical teenage girl response has amused her.

"Try not to be long," George says with a sigh; I can imagine Greta keeps him waiting quite often.

"No more than half an hour," Greta says, squeezing my arm.

"Okay," I say and then hurtle up the stairs.

What to wear? I’m saving the red-blue tartan skirt and black jumper for tomorrow, because they’re comfortable and I just want to be able to veg out and relax. There's that damn PVC mini skirt I got in so much trouble over, but I don't think it's really appropriate for a country pub. Then there's the little green mini dress Poppy made me buy from the second hand shop. It has the look of the 60s to it, which is an era I've always liked. I've not wanted to wear it, fearing how much of my body will be left exposed, but for some reason I have a real desire to impress Greta and her boyfriend. Maybe because they’re a little older than I’m supposed to be I really want their acceptance.

I swallow my fears and go for it. Knickers, bra and black tights all on I slowly pull the dress on over the top of my head. The material is thin and clingy. It holds on to every part of my body, showing no mercy. My breasts jut out and my thighs have never seemed rounder. There's nothing of the tomboy left, just a girl. I check myself in the mirror, not at all sure if I can pull this off.

"You look great." I get a start; I didn't realise Julia was standing there. "Perhaps you should wear this cardigan if you feel a little self conscious about being stared at," she says, handing me a thin black garment that I accept gratefully.

"You made me jump," I say reproachfully. She puts a hand on my arm in reassurance.

"I thought maybe you might need a little help with your make-up," she says. I can see she’s keen to be involved; I guess this is the sort of mother-daughter stuff she has always dreamed of.

"That'd be great," I answer.

"Come with me then," Julia takes my hand and leads me into the bathroom. She sits me down on the toilet with the seat and lid down. She then takes a bag of various make-up stuff from the top of the little cabinet and sits on the edge of the bath.

She makes me hold still while she chooses various different potions and applies them to my face. She keeps up a running commentary on what she’s using, but most of it goes in one ear and out the other. I notice she’s focussing a lot on my eyes. It’s strange feeling the gntle pressure of her brush against my closed eyelids. I hear George calling up for me from downstairs and Julia replying that I’m nearly ready.

"You always tell them you’re nearly ready, no matter what," Julia tells me, clearly enjoying herself.

"I remember," I say with a sly smile and we both laugh.

"Hmm," she says, leaning back to admire her handiwork, "not bad, even if I do say so myself." She smiles and lets me get up to look in the mirror. The tomboy is completely gone; even with the short hair I look completely feminine. I feel both embarrassed and excited.

"Right kiddo," Julia says as she pulls me away, "Cinderella is going to the ball."

She marches me down the stairs where Greta and George are waiting for me. I notice Greta has changed as well and is now wearing a shift dress teamed with small heels. Something about her heels niggles at my competitive urge, maybe because it adds emphasis to my position as the shortest of the group. I am going to have to make do with my Converses.

"Wow," says George, earning himself a little glare from Greta.

"You look amazing," she says generously, "you look like you stepped out of a French film from the 60s!"

"Here," says Julia going over to the coat rack, “you can borrow my spare handbag to keep your things in.” She hands me the bag she uses for special occasions. It's the bag Julia uses for hiding the cigarettes she only smokes when she's really stressed. She thinks I don’t know, but I do.

I've refused having a handbag so far, but this dress doesn't give me any options pocket wise so I accept, putting it over my shoulder once I have my coat and trainers on. Richard is just coming down as we leave. I suspect they are very glad to have a few hours to themselves. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about leaving my ex wife with her new lover.

If you've ever seen the film ‘American Werewolf in London’ then you'll know that scene when the two young American backpackers enter The Slaughtered Lamb to be stared at by the locals. This is how I feel as we enter the Cumbrian Arms. I’m glad of my coat as it feels like all eyes are looking me over. We get carded when George goes to the bar. The barman looks at all three, but spends the most time looking over mine before relenting with a shrug. I feel relieved when we leave the bar with our pints and can go find a quiet corner.

We sit at a little round table, barely big enough to fit us all. I let Greta and George tell me about university. Greta has only completed one term and is still wildly excited about it all. I smile inwardly as I sip my pint; I watch her hands flying around expressing how amazing everything is. She repeatedly reassures me how much better college and university are than school and how she can tell I’m going to love it. George is in his second year and is a little less in awe of the whole experience. He talks about all the great things, but also warns me about dodgy landlords and banks trying to get you hooked on credit cards.

There's a small group of local lads playing pool across the room. I notice that they keep looking over towards Greta and me and I’m glad ofGeorge's presence with his broad shoulders. I’m happy to take a backseat, I find, and as they talk I enjoy watching them interact. Their body language is close; Greta keeps gently touching George, on his arm and knee. George is subtle, but I can see he's angled his body in a way that’s protective of her.

The conversation bubbles along nicely. I only need to ask the odd question, like how they met, and they do all the work. Greta gets up, saying she will go to the toilet then buy the next round. After she's gone, George turns to me.

"Greta is very impressed with you," he says and I feel a little spike of pride.

"Oh I am sure she thinks I'm just some silly girl," I reply, taking another sip of my beer; I’m only halfway down the pint, far behind the other two. I hope George doesn't notice that I am shamelessly fishing for compliments.

"She's told everyone about you at university," he expands, "Oh not about the, you know, terrible thing," - he must have noticed the look of fear on my face – "but about you being out and being so cool," he reassures me. There’s a moment of slight embarrassment that George breaks by asking if I fancied a game of pool. I look around to see if the pool table is free.

The first game goes quickly. George beats me easily as I struggle to come to terms with the difference in height since the last time I played. I also find my breasts get in the way, and that I am too distracted by my short dress rising up when I have to lean over the table. It’s all over before Greta returns from the bar.

"Are you showing off in front of Emmy?" she chides him. She turns to me. "George spent most of his first year in the Student Union's pool room," she explains. He certainly is good, but I want a rematch.

This time I’m a little better, having adjusted to my new height and body shape a bit. I get the impression that George is going easy on me; however, even with him fluffing a few shots I still have two yellow balls on the table when he pots the black.

"Here," he says, handing his cue to Greta, "why don't you two play the next game?"

I'd have rather stood down but Greta seems keen so I stay on. As Greta sorts out the triangle I notice the local lads returning. They seem very interested in the two of us playing. I look over at George and feel a little uneasy when I notice that he's heading towards the toilet.

I am impressed with how confidently Greta ignores them. After I miss an easy shot she comes over and whispers to me, "Don't let them get to you."

I nod and continue. For the next few shots I stay calm and play well. The boys mostly keep out of our way but with the room being small we have to brush by when move around the table. As I squeeze past one lad, who’s tall, wiry and wearing a baseball cap even though he's inside and English, I feel an unmistakable bulge pressing against my arse. I turn around angrily but he holds his hands up in apology.

"Sorry luv, couldn't be helped," he says.I can see smirks on the faces of his friends and I’m left with the age-old quandary for women - do I react and be branded a bitch or do I say nothing and allow him to get away with it?

"No worries," I say with a forced smile, "I didn't feel a thing."

His mates fall about laughing and I see Greta giggling across the table. Still I am relieved when I see George returning from the toilet. Our game takes a while as neither of us is playing very well. After we finish (Greta wins but at least I am on the black) I go and sit down at our table and let the happy couple play. I am pleased to see the group of lads have dispersed and, while I hate any suggestion I am a 'damsel' in need of saving, I am pleased that George is here.

After they finish their first game I wave them on to play a second. I say I need the toilet and inwardly sigh with the knowledge that I'll be using the Ladies again. On the way back I bump into Tall and Wiry again.

"Bitch," he says. I notice he’s very drunk; I look for Greta and George and see them in the distance, but they don't see me.

"Look, just leave me alone," I say ,hoping he'll give up.

"Why do you dress like that if you don't want the attention," with real venom in his voice. He grabs my arm and I am only too aware how much larger he is.

"I'll dress how I like," I say, but he increases his grip."Ow, that hurts!"

I see him laugh disdainfully, and it all boils up. Everything I've been through in the last few months. Jessie, Luka, and all the small indignities. Why should I have to put up with any of it? And now this ignorant fucker is sneering at me like I don't matter. I’ve done it before I even realise.

"Arrgh, you fucking bitch!" I doubt the kick was as hard as all that but he wasn't expecting it and he's too drunk. He clutched his shin and topples backward slamming into a table behind him.

"Don't you dare fucking touch me you little prick!" I scream; the whole pub is looking now. A large man from behind the bar comes and drags Tall and Wiry up off the floor.

"That's the last time, Darren. You’re bared!" Darren tries to protest but the barman turns to me, cutting him off. "Sorry about this miss. Darren’s an alright lad when he's sober but he's an arsehole when he's drunk." Darren tries to speak again but the barman warns him that he'll call his dad.

I watch smugly as Darren is dragged away, the cocky young man reduced to a pleading child. Greta and George are next to me; Greta envelops me in a hug. George looks like he wants to thump someone and I’m pleased to see Darren's mates slinking away.

"Frigging hell, I could do with a fag," Greta says releasing me from her arms, "d’you have any?" she says to George. He shakes his head no, then something occurs to me.

"Hey, I think Mum keeps some spare in her handbag." I grab the bag and rummage around. My hand falls on something plastic and long. Not knowing what it is, I pull it out.

Greta and I stand there staring at the used pregnancy test. Correction - the used, positive pregnancy test.

"Well, now I really do need a smoke," says Greta.

First day back at school. I’m not even through the school gates yet and my nerves are on edge. I walk in with Poppy and Esse, letting them talk as I keep quiet. I can feel the gaze of the parents at the gate following me. Poppy tells me that Mr Dixon had held a special assembly before the Christmas break where he explained what had happened to me and how everyone should look out for me. I know it was done for all the right reasons but now I’m super aware that I am the centre of attention once more.

I see Jessie and her little gang waiting near the entrance to the main school building. They all look my way; Jessie in particular seems to be eyeing me up. They disperse before we get there.

Our form room is as noisy as ever. Most people ignore me, which I’m pleased about. I sit with Poppy near the window discussing all the comings and goings while I've been away. Poppy thinks Peter and Esse maybe starting a thing together.

Mr Hulse silences us all by launching into a long speech about our GCSE exams at the end of the year. I look around my classmates seeing their strained expressions. Even Jessie can't find anything sarcastic to say. It hits me that I’m going to have to take this seriously as well. I doubt they'd let me use my original results from two decades ago when applying to colleges and later universities.

Classes pass easily enough. After being read the riot act over GCSEs by their form tutors most of the kids are subdued. A boy called Cian sits next to me in history; I notice how full his exercise book is compared to my nearly empty one.

When the lunch bell rings I go to find Poppy and the gang. In one of the narrow corridors I am stopped by a short Asian girl, even shorter than me.

"Hi Emma," she says, unable to look directly at me.

"Err hi," I cast around for her name, "Pui?"

I must have guessed correctly because she continues, "I just wanted to say..." she stops, her courage seemingly giving up.

"Is it urgent?" I reply, only too aware my precious lunch break is ticking away.

She looks me directly in the eyes, I see fear there, "I just wanted to say I’m sorry about the whole thing with the lunch table," she says almost in one breathe.

I look her up and down. I hadn't even realised she was one of them.

"Thanks," I say not sure if this is some sort of trick. She breathes out in relief. "Can I ask you why you did it?" She squirms a little under my gaze. "I mean, it's not like I did anything to you."

I can see her thinking about things, "I don't know really," she sighs,"it wasn't about you," she pauses. I can see on her face that she is struggling, "I just wanted to be popular."

"Well, thanks for apologising," I say in what I hope is a genuine voice, "I appreciate it."

"Thanks," she beams at me, "you know, if you want to sit next to me in maths that'd be cool," she finishes and then scurries off before I get the chance to reply.

Tuesday evening and I am waiting for Poppy behind the art block. She has extra life drawing classes that she attends as she is hoping to go on and study Fashion next year.

I have already run home and changed out of my school clothes but even with the thick jumper and duffel coat I can feel the cold wind going through me. I turn around the corner into the little courtyard created where the art block meets the library. Through the windows of the library I spot a group of kids working. I know the library is where they hold the after school detentions. To my amusement I spot Jessie amongst them. I stay out of sight watching them talk. I can't hear them obviously but I enjoy the thought that I’ve had time to go home, change and come back while Jessica has been stuck here.

I see them getting up and realise with a start that they will be coming out soon. I don't want to be caught here so I step inside the door of the art block and wait for them to come past. I think about hiding in the toilets but decide it isn't necessary. There’s no reason for anyone to come in here.

There is a mixture of expressions on the faces of the kids; some look brow beaten and fed up, others relieved to finally be leaving school. Most leave quickly but Jessica sits down on the concrete step opposite where I am hiding. I see her take out a packet of cigarettes and light one. Thankfully she doesn't look forward but glances off to the side, in the direction of the car park. It’s clear she is waiting for someone. She chain-smokes three cigs in a row before the person she is waiting for arrives. It’s a woman in a well-worn rainproof coat. The woman's hair is tied up in a ponytail; her hair looks limp and lifeless. I can't see much of her as she has her back to me but I do notice her movements are slow and clumsy. My guess is that she’s drunk.

I hear only the odd bits of their conversation but I do catch Jessie calling the woman 'Mum'. She fiddles with her mother's coat, readjusting the lapels and straightening out the creases. Her movements are soft and caring. Anyone would think Jessie is the caring parent and not the other way round. I move closer to the little window in the door wanting to see more. I have to lean against to door to peer through. My weight causes the door to open a little making me spring back in fear of being caught. This is the wrong thing to do as it means the door swings back, making a banging noise.

I look up through the little window quickly and see Jessie looking my way. Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second and then I dash away. I wait outside the door of Poppy's class expecting Jessie to appear at any second, but she doesn't.

Eventually Poppy comes out with the rest of her class, six in total. She’s surprised but pleased to find me waiting outside the classroom door. I lie and say it was too cold to wait outside. One of the boys jokes that I wanted to catch a glimpse of the nude model. We all laugh and leave together, Poppy holding my hand.

I half expect Jessie to be waiting for me outside but she has gone. We walk to Peter's house to meet the others. On the way I stay quiet, letting Poppy talk excitedly about the movement drawings they have been doing. My mind is elsewhere, wondering about Jessie and her mother.

As we wait outside Peter's, Poppy pins me against the wall and pretend interrogates me on what I’ve bought her for her birthday; it’s only just over a week away now.

Part 6

“Please allow me to introduce myself
I’m a woman of wealth and taste
I’ve been around for a long, long year
Stole many a man’s soul to waste”

I’ve never sung in front of a crowd before, not as the lead, and I feel strange. It seems impossible that I’m hitting all the right notes. I channel Mick Jagger and Sandy Shaw, swinging my hips and holding the mic in what I hope is a seductive rather than stupid manner.

I have time to watch the crowd. I see many faces, mostly from school. It’s odd to have their attention and to feel in control, it’s the opposite from how I normally feel when at the centre of a crowd. It isn’t me they’re staring at but this new person I’ve created - and no one knows more about that than me.

Poppy’s house is completely packed. I’m surprised so many people have come. Her dad banned her from advertising on social media but there’s still a good turn out through word of mouth. Aside from our gang I was expecting Poppy’s arty friends, but there are also various others, including a few of the popular kids. As we finish the song in shambolic style, one face surprises me the most.

“Did you see her too?” Poppy whispers. I know exactly who she means - Jessie. I see her standing near the back looking nervous with Pui. Poppy is off, straight through the crowd. She pushes aside her older cousin Phil, who is here to keep an eye on things. She reaches Jessie before Esse and I are even halfway there.

“What are you doing here,” she demands, “after the shit you gave Emma and me?” She clenches and unclenches her fists and I worry she’s about to punch her. From the look on Jessie’s face, she is too.

“Hey Pops, don’t worry about it,” I start.

“Don’t you defend her,” Poppy cuts me off. I think of Jessie standing with her mother outside the art block. I think of her mother shaking from the alcohol and how Jessie looked after her. Jessie’s looking at me with a strange expression on her face and I wonder if she’s remembering the same thing.

“She’s just not worth it, Popsicle.” I turn to Jessie and Pui. “You’re not going to cause any trouble are you?”

Pui shakes her head and protests that they wouldn’t. Jessie doesn’t say anything but her eyes are downcast and I almost expect her to start crying. Neither girl is enjoying being at the centre of attention, both are out of their depth. I decide I don’t need to hear Jessie’s apologies. She’s on my territory now; the fact she’s come here shows she’s beaten.

The party gets going again and we lose Jessie and Pui in the crowd. We stand with Peter and Ian discussing the songs we played. We just about got through Sweet Jane by the Velvet Underground and House of the Rising Sun, both easy three-cord songs. From a professional point of view we were terrible but others kept saying how great we were. Esse’s voice and Peter’s guitar playing both have something, or could have something with a lot of practice.

The music’s loud and all consuming. “You should slow down a bit,” Esse yells into my ear. I shake my head and down the rest of my bottle of beer. I’m thinking about the letter we received saying the New Body Company will have a legal representative at my hearing. What would happen if they want me to pay for Emma’s body? There’s no way we could afford it. I head off to the kitchen looking for another beer to shut down my mind.

The party goes on until 1am. Poppy’s Dad has told us he will come back at 1:30 so we have to clear everyone out. He has agreed that I can stay over. Although it hasn’t been said, I know Poppy’s hoping we will have sex.

Poppy and Esse talk excitedly about everything that’s happened tonight. Peter wonders if anyone saw Jessie leave, but no one cares that much. I only caught a few glimpses of her through the night. Pui looked bored, playing with her phone. I guess they left a while ago. As Phil slowly but surely moves people out I fidget, pulling the label off my bottle of beer. The alcohol has relaxed me until now. Peter and Esse are the last to leave, and I notice they are holding hands. Poppy has her arm around my waist and is pulling me close.

Eventually it’s time. Poppy takes me by the hand and leads me into her room. My nerves have completely burnt off the alcohol and my brain is alert. I feel my hands shaking as Poppy takes them in hers.

“Are you okay?” she asks me. I just nod, almost hypnotised.

I can hear Poppy’s Dad and Phil talking in the kitchen. Poppy goes and closes the door. Then she comes over and pushes me onto the bed. All my resistance has gone. It feels like electricity is shooting through my whole body. If I close my eyes I can see my nerve endings on fire. I feel parts I’ve hardly been able to acknowledge come alive. My mind’s full of a thousand and one things; is this right? Am I betraying Julia? Am I killing Mark? Do I want to be Emma forever? Then she kisses me and everything fuses into one.

An hour or more later we lie next to each other. Poppy runs her hand over my smooth body. A body that feels renewed.

“I have to tell you something.” I say this without thinking; I know if I do I’ll bottle it.

“Huh?” she whispers.

“I told you this body was given to me by Witness Protection.” I look at her wishing there was more light in the room so I can read her reaction better. Even in the gloom I see her smile.

“I know... that makes you my sex-bot.”

“I didn’t tell you everything.” She’s silent. “My old body…” I take a huge deep breath, “I was a boy.”

“A boy?” She doesn’t sound angry, but I can’t really tell for certain. “What was your name?”

“Mark,” I say, my stomach in knots. I want to shake her, make her tell me it’ll be alright.

“Mark...” it sounds almost like she is tasting the word. “Do you want to be a boy again?” It takes me a while to reply.

“Sometimes, yes.” I feel her going tense. “I didn’t choose to change sexes. It was forced upon me. But I’m happy, with you and everyone. I feel more and more like Emma now. I couldn’t leave her behind.” Poppy goes silent for a while and eventually I have to say something.

“So, do you think I am a freak?” She pulls herself closer to me. Now I can see her face; she’s smiling.

“I guess you are, Emma – but you’re my freak.” We hold each other close until we’re both asleep.

Hours later I wake up feeling like there’s someone else in the room. I hold myself up for a few minutes waiting to hear the telltale sound of movement but nothing comes. The house is completely still. Through Poppy’s window I can see the weak light you get just before dawn. I don’t look at the clock. I don’t want to make myself more awake. I notice the door has swung open a little. Thinking of Poppy’s dad, and not wanting him to see me lying with his daughter, I get up and pad over to it, closing it carefully so as not to wake up Poppy. Somewhere in the distance I hear sounds, perhaps next door getting up early? The effort of standing up makes my head go all woozy. I go back to the bed and drop down onto the cool sheets feeling the cold all around me. Somewhere in the house I hear the boiler turn on. Minutes later I’m asleep.

I had been expecting something close to the courtroom dramas on TV. I’m disappointed to find myself sitting around a large table in what is a bland but comfortable meeting room somewhere in the depths of the Manchester & Salford Magistrates’ Court building.

I notice the low hum of the central heating that seems a little too high, making my mind feel cloudy and slow. The judge sitting at the head of the table is dressed in a smart business suit. He’s leaning in to one of his subordinates and, although I can’t hear what he is saying, I can make out his Welsh accent. I don’t know why but it relaxes me. I’ve always liked the Welsh accent.

“Well,” he begins, “given that this is a civil matter involving a minor I want to keep this from going to a full trial. To that end, I’ve called for this tribunal to see if we can come to some agreement.” He looks down at his files. “As I see it we have three main areas to decide upon. Firstly, the official identity of Mark Healey/Emma Riley/Chloe Livingston.” Chloe Livingston? I haven’t heard this name before. I look at Julia who motions for me to remain silent.

“The second matter is the ownership of Mark Healey’s estate, in particular his shares in Decimation Records. And finally, the guardianship of Emma Riley/Chloe Livingston, depending of course on my ruling on the official identity of Mark/Emma/Chloe.”

My head is spinning, I can’t take it all in. I’m aware of the judge introducing everyone in the room. Julia, Richard and their colleague Kelly, who’s acting as our lawyer. Then there’s Steve, my old partner at Decimation Records and his lawyer, a thin man called Phillips. Finally, there’s a middle-aged couple referred to as Mr and Mrs Livingston. I know they’re something to do with the New Body Company. I find it hard to look at them, there’s something about them that makes me feel queasy.

The judge asks them a few questions that are answered by a third man. He’s overweight and wears an expensive suit; I guess he’s their lawyer. He speaks to the judge like they’re old friends and I’m pleased to note the judge seems uncomfortable with this. Neither of the Livingstons look at me. I get the impression it takes a great effort for them not to.

It takes me a while to figure it out but I slowly begin to see a reflection of my own features, Emma’s features, in their faces. Mr Livingston’s hair is auburn and wavy like mine when it was long. Mrs Livingston has green eyes like my own; although her hair, greying now, shows signs it was once a dark red. At one point, when I lose the thread of what’s being said, I look over at her and it strikes me that I’m seeing my own future. As such I become very interested in her. She’s an attractive woman; from what’s been said she’s somewhere in her 50s, but she could pass easily for early forties or even late thirties. Like many wealthy women, she’s been able to avoid the rigours of time.

They must be the couple who commissioned Emma’s body. I shudder despite the warmth coming from the heater. Only when the judge asks them about the moment they heard about my body being requisitioned by the Witness Protection Programme does the age show on Mrs Livingston’s face.

“Of course,” she says, her accent clipped and patrician but not without feeling, worry lines spreading out from her mouth like the map of a busy city as she speaks, “it was hardest on poor Timothy...” She stops, holding a hand to her mouth, like she’s trying to stop the very words from escaping her.

“Timothy would be Chloe’s, I mean the original Chloe’s, twin?” the judge asks, his voice soft and kind. Mrs Livingston just nods in response. A twin? I never knew. While I have no intention of pretending to be this woman’s daughter, I feel a heavy weight on my shoulders. I know I jumped the queue to become Emma. I hadn’t asked to but I did. Now I’m beginning to see the repercussions.

The proceedings move on. Kelly reminds the judge that the law recognises New Bodies as legal persons, with the right to self-determination once they can prove independent thought and self-awareness, that I had clearly passed the test set down by law and had clearly expressed my wish to remain a part of Julia and Richard’s family. She’s eloquent and to the point. I’m reassured by her no-nonsense tone.

“I’d like to remind the judge that in all cases where personhood has been awarded, all of the control procedures have been ended and yet in this case this has not happened.” The Livingstons’ lawyer interjects; I can see sweat patches on the expensive material of his suit, but his eyes are sharp. When he looks at me I have the feeling of being a small fury thing hiding in the long grass that’s just spotted a hawk looking at it.

“However, as this case is about a minor,” Kelly continues urgently, “where normal procedure is to keep some controls in place, those precedents are inapplicable. I’d remind everyone that Ms Riley only survived her kidnapping ordeal because the tracking controls remained in place.” I notice that both the Livingstons’ faces have drained of all colour.

The proceeding move on and I feel my head spinning. I feel like crying and throwing up when Mrs Livingston tells the room that the genetic material for my body was taken from one of her eggs. The judge asks for more details about the controls working on me and I remember the incident with Noah and how I’d allowed myself to be led so easily. I also think of Julia and Detective Deepa talking out of my hearing. Sometimes, when I’m looking elsewhere, I can feel Mrs Livingston’s eyes on me. I try not to look at her.

A break is called for lunch. I go with Richard and Julia to the canteen. Julia and Richard talk but I don’t speak. I look at the goat cheese and caramelised onion ciabatta in front of me but I can’t eat.

“Are you okay, Emma?” Julia asks me. Her voice is quiet and it quavers as she speaks.

I want to shout at her, beat her with my little fists and make her feel the pain I’m feeling; I’m angry with her but I don’t really know why. Then I want to throw myself into her arms and have her comfort me and tell me this is all going to be okay.

“Umm, yeah. I’m okay,” I say, “I just need the toilet.”

I get up and leave the table, not wanting to see their expressions. I move quickly heading to the corridor and leaning against the wall breathing deeply. The women’s toilets are to my right. I don’t really need them but at least I can be on my own. As I enter the large, brightly lit, almost futuristic, conveniences I almost bump into Mrs Livingston. I can see different emotions in her eyes. Fear, hope, maybe something else? Determination, perhaps.

“I, I,” I stammer, “I am sorry about your daughter,” I say in a small voice. I see tears forming in her eyes, but she fixes me with a penetrating stare. She clutches my arm, her grip both desperate and firm, “I’m not going to give up on you, Chloe...”

When she’s gone I sit in the stall quietly crying. I’ve never felt so bad about myself, nor have I ever felt so scared. Eventually I hear Julia’s timid voice outside the cubicle.

“Emma...” she stammers, “are you in there?”

I must have opened the cubical door because the next thing I know she’s in there with me, her arms around me. I sob as she shushes me.

“Oh, Emma,” and she’s crying as well now, “I’m so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

The afternoon goes by in a blur. I don’t follow much of what is said, my emotions are too loud and cancel out what is being said. I do understand that Steve is protesting that I am not truly Mark and therefore can’t inherit / transfer ownership of my half of the company. Thankfully the judge is sensible. He states that if we can agree that Mark is deceased and that, as such, my half should go to Mark’s wife, who of course is Julia. Julia thanks the judge and agrees with his suggestion to give Steve two months to buy her out and to sign over the proceeds to me to be put into a trust until I reach twenty-one.

I enjoy watching Steve squirm, the bastard. This brings the judge to the matter of my legal age. Now it’s my turn to squirm in my seat. If he decides I’m legally thirty-six it will have serious repercussions on my relationship with Poppy. Could I even end up going to jail?

“I have received depositions from Doctor Fields, Detective Deepa and the New Body Company. I have also spoken to Mr Dixon and Mr Hulse from Emma’s school,” - maybe I’m grasping at straws but I feel relieved that he uses the name ‘Emma’ - “given what I have been told about the biological age of her body, and of how her teachers feel it will be hard for Emma to reach her full potential at GCSE this year, I feel ready to set Emma, or Chloe’s” - Damn! I think - “age at thirteen as suggested by the Livingstons.”

Wait, what? “You can’t!” I shout out.

“Ms Riley, please control yourself. Although this may not be a courtroom, these are legal proceedings and you will only talk when asked. Do you understand?” I nod my head numbly. There must be some way to appeal, surely?

“We’ll appeal,” Kelly says, voicing my thoughts.

“You are certainly welcome to put in an appeal on behalf of your client,” the judge says calmly, “but for now in the eyes of the law she is a thirteen year old girl.”

My mouth gapes open. In just a few sentences I have lost two years and the better part of the life I have created for myself over the last few months. I think of Poppy and our relationship. What will I tell her? The ride home is silent. I sit in the back holding my phone in my hand. On the screen are three messages from Poppy.

Poppy: How did it go today? Xxxx

Poppy: When u free? Wanna do smthn? :-D xxxxxx

Poppy: Smthn sxy? ;-) ;-) xxxxxxxxxxx

She knows of course that I was in court. I told her that we were settling some of the legal issues around my new life. I haven’t told her the rest. How can I tell her that I am now legally a thirteen year old?

“How about we pick up a takeaway?” I realise Richard is talking to me.

“Ummm, sure,” I reply. My stomach is in knots, I can’t think about food. I am aware of Julia and Richard talking in the front of the car, something about the twins and who is looking after whom.

“How about we sleep over at Richard’s tonight?” Julia asks looking at me. I can see how guilty she feels. Good! Then I feel bad for blaming her.

On one hand I don’t know how I feel, why didn’t Julia predict this was going to happen? On the other not being alone sounds good. I don’t think I can face Poppy and the gang. How am I going to tell them I am no longer going to be in the same year as them? I imagine the face of Jessie laughing at me.

“Oh God!” I exclaim.

“What?” Julia turns around looking fearful.

“You can’t make me go back to the same school,” and I feel myself shaking. “I’ll be a laughing stock.”

I see Julia sag in relief, “No one is going to make you go anywhere, not if I can help it.” These last six last words are spoken with great fierceness. For a moment I feel better, knowing she is on my side not plotting against me. Then the knot returns to my stomach. We stop off at our place while Richard goes to pick up the twins. Richard will collect take away from my favourite Indian restaurant and we’ll meet him at his place.

I’m in my room packing my Hello Kitty pyjamas into my overnight bag when I notice Julia waiting nervously.

“What?” I say, perhaps a little more sharply than I planned. Still, I am in no mood to let her off the hook.

“I...” I can tell she is struggling to get the words out, “I want to apologise for not telling you about the control settings.” I see her deflate as she gets it out.

“Why didn’t you?” I control my anger, hoping to be dignified.

“Deepa said it was procedure for minors, it wasn’t meant to be for long but then you kept getting yourself into trouble. I was worried what you would do.”

“How many different controls where there? You should have told me,” I say, getting straight to the point.

“Yes,” she says in a small voice, “yes I should have. I’m sorry for that.”

“You wanted to feel like you had some power over me,” I say. I’m not angry and my voice is steady.

“I suppose I did,” and she deflates even more. “I suppose subconsciously I wanted to get back at you.”

“Get back at me! What for?” There is anger in my voice now.

She looks me in the eyes and she’s no longer contrite, “For all those nights when you were out with God knows who, doing God knows what.”

I am taken aback. “I never cheated on you!”

“I know that… at least, I do now,” and there is sadness in her voice again, “but it wasn’t really about that.”

“What was it about then?” I look her in the eyes; there’s no malice but I feel like some old wound is being reopened.

“It was about you controlling me. Keeping me away from part of your life so I could never know you. I wonder if anyone ever really knew the whole Mark.” I turn away from her unable to look at the expression on her face and I feel her hands on my shoulders.

“But I want you to know, I really did love Mark,” - I feel myself sobbing and she pulls me to her - “and I love you, Emma. Not in the same way, of course, but just as powerfully.” She pulls me to her, my body shaking with the tears.

Later that night all five of us, Julia, Richard, the twins and I sit under a duvet on Richard’s huge sofa watching the first Ghostbusters movie. Oscar, who has taken a shine to me since Christmas, lays his head on my lap and I stroke his hair. The gentle movement calms me.

“Why is Emma sad?” His question is directed at his Dad. Richard looks at me. I just smile back weakly wondering what he is going to tell the boy.

“She’s sad because some judge has decided that she is thirteen, not fifteen like we thought.” I’m impressed with how truthful Richard is. I don’t know if I can be that brave. Oscar sits up suddenly.

“Can they do that?” Both twins are staring urgently at their Dad.

“They can try,” he says, “but we aren’t going to let them,” he says.

“Why not?” the twins ask in unison.

“Because Emma is part of our family,” Richard says bluntly. The twins go back to watching the film, reassured that their Dad has everything in hand and that all will be right in the adult world. I notice Julia is smiling, but with tears running down her cheeks. Then I notice that there are warm tears running down my own face. I have a family, but for how long?

I wake up on the sofa covered in the duvet. I can hear Richard’s voice as he whispers to the boys not to wake me. Then I hear him disappear upstairs dragging Alfie to the bathroom. A few minutes later Oscar pads into the living room. He is carrying a bowl of cereal that sloshes from side to side as he walks.

He turns the TV on, sits down on the floor next to the sofa, takes the remote and expertly navigates to the kids’ programmes.

“Morning,” I say. He turns looking up at me with a cheeky grin. He knows he’s contravened his Dad’s direct rule. He also knows he’s going to get away with it.

I ruffle his hair and then swing my legs off the sofa. As Mark I’d occasionally sleep on our old sofa; usually if I’d been recording late and knew Julia had to be up early for work. Back then my back would ache for the rest of the day, now I feel fine. Something to thank my smaller, younger body for I guess. All this makes me think of Steve and how he has fucked me over. Because of his selfishness I have to accept ‘Mark’ is dead and gone to get my half of the business, but by accepting I am no longer Mark, I become a child and lose my independence.

I pull out my phone and write an angry text to Steve, calling him all the names under the sun. I sit for a few minutes listening to the clinking of Oscar’s spoon against his bowl, then I hit send. For a moment I feel better, then I start to question myself. Just as I am praying there’s a delete message sent button Julia comes in the room. Her hair is all messy and she is clinging for dear life to a mug of coffee.

“Oscar,” she says and he pretends not to hear. “Oscar, your Dad wants you in the bathroom.” Oscar only grunts.“Can you go and help him please, I want to have a word with Emma,” Julia pleads. He turns around to look at me and I give him a weak little smile. With a boy’s natural fear of difficult emotions he gets up and runs out of the room.

“How did you sleep?” Julia asks, running her fingers through my hair. I guess it must be pretty tangled.

“Not great,” I sigh. “To be honest, I kept waking up.”

“Bad dreams?” Julia asks.

“I guess so,” I fidget with my hands, “I don’t really remember them.” I have a vague memory of being trapped in a giant playpen with Jessie trying to put nappies on me.

“I’m going to take the day off and keep you company. Is that okay?” I’m not sure why she’s asking my permission. I don’t seem to have much say in things these days.

“Sure,” I say, “that’d be nice.”

She goes away and I sit watching kids programmes, while in the background Richard is getting the twins ready for school. When they’re at the door I hear Alfie and Oscar protesting that they can stay home and keep me company as well. After they’ve left, the house goes silent. I hear my phone buzzing to tell me that I have a new text. My heart leaps as I remember what I just sent to Steve. I have to take a deep breath before I check.

Greta: Just heard what they did to you! Coming bk at wkend. Stay strong!

She must have heard what happened through Richard. I clutch my phone to my chest feeling strangely giddy that I have another friend out there. It passes in seconds but I find myself reading and re-reading the text several times. On the last read I notice I have another text, this time from Poppy.

Poppy: You not going to school?

Shit, I forgot to tell Poppy and Esse that I wont be in today. They must have waited for me!

Emma: Soz Pops, not feeling great. Didn’t sleep then feel asleep in morning and forgot to txt xxxxxx

It feels bad how easily I lie to her. I feel worse moments later when she replies.

Poppy: No worries! Get well soon baby girl ;-) xxxxxxxx

Her instant forgiveness in the face of my lies makes me feel terrible. Julia comes back into the room and asks how I’m doing. I don’t respond but she must have seen the look on my face. She comes and sits next to me putting her arms around me.

“Poppy texted,” I say by way of explanation. “What am I going to say to her?”

Julia holds me while I cry. I hear her muttering something about her understanding if I talk to her, but I know there’s no way. Eventually I calm down and Julia suggests we go back to our place. Julia goes to get her stuff together and I pull a jumper and coat on over my pyjamas. I’m thinking about Poppy; I know the only thing I can do is sort this mess out. There must be some way to get myself re-classed as fifteen. I can’t believe I’m fighting to be a fifteen-year-old girl again, but what choice do I have?

I am curled up on a sofa again, this time ours. Poppy and Esse have been texting me all day with the gossip from school. At the end of the school day Poppy sends me a blurry photo of Peter and Esse kissing. I send a half hearted text back saying that’s great but surely we are the best couple. It seems to please Poppy as she sends me a text full of kisses. For a moment I feel light hearted again, but it passes when I realise my next hearing isn’t for two weeks and I wont be able to return to school before then.

At five thirty the doorbell rings. I assume it’s going to be Richard and I’m surprised when Julia brings Mr Hulse into the living room. I’m glad I changed into jeans and a t-shirt a while ago but I wish Julia had warned me so I could have showered.

“Hi Emma.” He seems a little sheepish and I feel my face burning, realising he must now know my whole story.

“Err, hi Mr Hulse,” I stutter, wondering what he must now think of me.

“How are you holding up?” it seems funny to see him outside of school. He’s taken off his tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He could be anyone else in the street.

“Can I get you anything… coffee, tea?” asks Julia.

“No thanks, I can’t stay too long,” he smiles at Julia and then turns his attention back to me, “Emma I wanted to say how sorry I am about what has happened to you. You must be going through hell.”

I just nod my head, worried that I’ll start blubbing again.

“On a personal level I want to apologise to you both.” Julia sits down next to me. “When Mr Dixon asked me for a report on how you are doing at school I sat down with your teachers and wrote a detailed report.” I feel that knot in my stomach again and he continues.

“I had to be honest and say there are areas where you are behind, such as course work, which you have less of for obvious reasons.”

“This was the report the judge saw?” Julia asks, her face grim.

“Yes, I’m afraid it was. Or at least part of it.” There is a pause and Julia and I look at each other... part of it?

“I am afraid Mr Dixon took out the conclusion at the end where I and all your teachers agreed that you are a very capable young woman. And that, with some extra help, we didn’t see any reason why you couldn’t have done well at your GCSEs.” I am stunned. It feels like I’ve been hit by a ton of bricks; I don’t know if I should be happy or angry. Julia steps in for me.

“This is outrageous, how could he do something like that?”

“Well I agree with you,” he looks sheepish, clearly not enjoying telling tales on a colleague, “but I think he would say the school doesn’t have the resources to give Emma the extra help she needs.” Julia folds her arms in a defensive manner but doesn’t push it further.

“Well thank you for telling us about this, Mr Hulse.”

“Please, call me Owen, Ms Riley,” he tells her.

“Thank you, Owen, but I don’t know if this helps Emma any. She has a court ruling saying her age is now thirteen thanks to some dodgy editing.” I can tell she is extremely annoyed. Owen reaches down to the shoulder bag he has been carrying and pulls out two files; one red, one blue.

“I think your lawyer should see these.” he says. Pointing at the blue file he says, “This is the full report with our recommendations,” then he taps the red file, “and this is the changed report, although I assume your lawyer already has a copy.” I see Julia’s eyes focused on the two folders and I know she must have an idea.

“Thank you, Owen,” and I can tell she’s warmed to him, “I know you must be breaking school rules giving us these.”

“Indeed,” he smiles at me, “I’d do the same for any of my students, but I have to admit Emma is something of a favourite,” I blush, I must be bright red. “Don’t go telling the others, Emma,” he adds.

Julia extends an arm to him, “Thank you so much, Owen! I’ll pass this on to Kerry, it may help.” He goes on to tell us that the school are telling everyone that I’m off sick. He’ll let it be known that I have something contagious so have been ordered off for two weeks, which will give us time for my second hearing.

“After that we’ll hopefully have you back with us,” he says. His optimism warms me. I’m also grateful for the contagious sickness excuse as it will give me an alibi for Poppy and the gang. My only regret is the thought of what Jessie will make of it.

Owen/Mr Hulse stays a while taking me through all the course work I will need to complete while I am off. I can’t believe I have to do homework! As ever, he’s patient and kind which makes me feel a little better. As we work through the tasks I can hear Julia in the kitchen preparing tea. After he leaves Julia comes and gives me a hug.

“Feeling any better?” she asks.

“A little,” I sigh. “At least, less like a freak.” She nods.

“I spoke to Kelly, she says we should go over to hers tomorrow with the files. Do you fancy another sleepover? We could go walking in the country.” Kerry lives in Todmorden, up in the hills that surround Manchester. It’s really only a village but it has a reputation for having vibrant artist and LGBT communities.

“Sure, sounds like fun,” I say. I like the idea of being somewhere where I wont be recognised for a little while. Julia goes to fetch our food. Looking down at my phone I notice two new texts from Poppy. I sigh again; I’m not sure a contagious disease is enough to keep her away. In a hidden part of my brain I silently hope it is not.

The sun is out and the wind is blowing on my face. We race along the towpath beside the little canal in Todmorden. The bike I’m riding is a ‘girl’s’ mountain bike. At least it isn’t too girly, being mostly white and black. On the bike I’m as fast as anyone, if not faster, with my young legs. I have to keep stopping to allow Julia and Kerry to catch up. We don’t cycle too far but the cold winter air revives me and for a moment I am free of my worries. After a circle around the town we end up back at Kerry’s terrace cottage. It has a long garden at the back and a conservatory extension that allows us to sit in its warmth while enjoying it.

My good mood comes to an end when I spy a text from Poppy asking how I am and if she can come and visit. I slouch at the table just staring at my phone’s screen. I have no idea what to reply. In the end I just give up and put it away. As Kerry and Julia talk, I zone out watching a cat prowl through the garden. It has spotted something of interest in the hedge and squats down in a pouncing position. It looks comical the way it wiggles it arse and tail in the air. Something Julia says catches my attention.

“So, do you think we have a chance?” When I look back the cat has gone.

“Maybe. It depends how much importance the judge puts on the original report,” Kerry smiles at me, “but at least it gives us something. I’ve scheduled a meeting for Monday; if he accepts this as new evidence, at least we’ll have a fighting chance.” I nod, feeling slightly less gloomy than before. Hope springs in my heart. I could be back in school by the middle of the week. Am I really excited about the prospect of high school?

I think of the John Cleese quote from the film Clockwise, “It’s not the despair, Laura. I can take the despair. It’s the hope I can’t stand”

Julia goes to the front room to call Richard and tell him about Monday. Kerry asks if I’d like more tea and I shake my head. My little body can’t take much caffeine.

“How are things at school?” she asks from the kitchen.

“Okay I suppose, so long as I don’t have to go back as a Year 8!” I reply in a sulky voice. She re-enters the room.

“Julia was telling me you have a girlfriend?” I nod. Thinking of Poppy makes my stomach churn with angst.

“I’m impressed that you are out at fifteen, I know I didn’t have the courage at your age.” Kerry lives with her partner Danielle. I just shrug. It isn’t really brave, it just is. I do appreciate her keeping to my being fifteen. Just to think, only a few months ago I would have done anything not to be thought of as a fifteen year old. Now it’s my best option. How much worse can things get?

“Are you worried about not seeing her again?” Kerry asks, her voice kind and soft. I’m not exactly sure why I start crying. I didn’t feel close to it before. I guess it is the acknowledgement of my situation, the tacit understanding that I could lose Poppy. Kerry hugs me and I feel a little better. Julia returns and sees us hugging. Without a word she joins in.

My phone buzzes again making us all laugh. It is only a momentary release of tension. I look at the text; it’s from Greta saying she’s in Manchester and looking forward to seeing us tomorrow. I sigh once more; it’s good to know I haven’t being deserted.

We are in a different conference room this time. This one is smaller and has a smaller table, but other than that and the view from the window it is much of a muchness. After about an hour of legal talk that slowly saps my will to live, Kerry makes her play.

“So, as you see, the educational report had a significant part left out,” she says, pushing forward copies, although I guess the judge and the other legal team already have their own.

“I’d like to move that this evidence is inadmissible,” says the Livingston’s fat lawyer. The way his fat, sausage-like fingers pull out several sheets of paper creeps me out. His assistant, an attractive blonde lady somewhere in her mid to late twenties passes the sheets of paper around. I don’t get a copy and have to peep over Kerry’s shoulder. It’s a letter of some sort.

“On what grounds?” the judge asks.

“Proof of authorship,” the fat lawyer answers quickly.

“My lord,” Kerry begins, “I have already shown authorship with written accounts from Mr Hulse and several other of Emma’s teachers.”

“Not relevant.” I have here signed letters from the deputy head and head of the school, plus a further one from the educational authority standing by the original report.” Only when Julia puts her hand on me to restrain me do I realise how angry I’m becoming.

“But that’s not fair! Owen’s telling the truth!” I shout out. Immediately I know I’ve said the wrong thing. I can see the judge raising his eyebrows, clearly shocked by my calling my teacher by his first name. The fat lawyer sees this and pounces.

“I am sure ‘Owen’ means well, Ms, but we have no evidence he is qualified to make this judgement. He may have an axe to grind,” he pauses than goes in for the kill, “or personal reasons to keep you in his class.” I feel dreadful. One of the few people to stick his neck out for me and I’ve gone and let him become a target for insinuation and innuendo. Kerry, the fat lawyer and the judge continue arguing points for another twenty minutes but I know it is a lost cause. Finally the judge brings proceedings to an end.

“Clearly Emma / Chloe is a remarkable young woman, and the fact she has the memories of an older man gives her a unique perspective.” I wait for the inevitable.

“However, based on the biological report supplied by the New Body Company, and
Doctor Field’s testimony that Emma / Chloe only started her period in the last six months I am willing to stand by my original decision.” He turns and addresses me directly. “Emma, you are in a unique position, and I know it must feel like I am being wilfully cruel to you. This is not the case. You find yourself in a new body, one you don’t understand and have no experience of, both physically and in the way others react to you.”

I just nod my head gloomily; does he really think he’s telling me anything I don’t know? He continues.

“I do have to say I admire you; you have dealt with some terrible things over the last few months, more than many will have to deal with in a life time.”

I feel a tiny bit better, but it’s a small flower in the massive wasteland of my fate.

“However,” now he gets to it, “in light of expert medical opinion, and how recent events have highlighted your vulnerability, I am minded to err on the side of caution. From this point forward you will be classed as a thirteen year old girl. I’ll speak to your school and to the education authority. I think the best thing maybe to find you a new school, do you agree?”

I nod my head; the only thing stopping me from breaking down is the shock. Will I ever see Poppy again?

I stand in the corridor with Julia’s arms around me. We are both crying a little.

“Erm,” I look up and see the twenty-something legal assistant to the fat lawyer standing there, “I’m so sorry but my boss was wondering if we could have a little word?”

“How dare you!” Julia’s voice is full of fury. “Can’t you see what you’ve done?”

“It would be in your best interest...” The legal assistant’s voice is small; she almost cowers from Julia.

“Is this a deal?” Kerry has come over and joined the conversation.

“I can’t say, but it is in her best interest,” Ms Legal Assistant’s voice is a little clearer now.

“She won’t come alone, we’re coming with her,” Kerry answers for us. The legal assistant agrees and leads us into a little room where the fat lawyer is sitting with a laptop.

“Thank you, Emma,” he begins, his voice sounding kind, although I’m suspicious. “I know today must be hard for you.” I just nod, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. He doesn’t blink an eyelid. “I want to say I am personally very sorry about what I am going to show you. Revenge porn and so called ’slut shaming’ are terrible things I totally disapprove of,” His sympathetic voice doesn’t quite hid his excitement at nearing the kill, “but what we have found does raise some serious questions.”

He turns the laptop around and shows me. It’s a web page, not a very well put together one by the look of it. The top of the page says ’Lesbian Sluts’. What’s underneath makes me want to throw up. Looking around at Julia and Kerry I see they are in shock as well. Most of the photos are stupid, just badly taken pics of Poppy and me holding hands, hugging and in one or two kissing. The ones further down however are much worse. They are pictures of us in bed together, doing a lot more than kissing. There are couple of pictures that capture our faces making who we are indisputable. Someone was in Poppy’s bedroom with us. Fucking Jessie! I’ve never felt such pure hatred of someone.

“I don’t understand,” I say, “I’m legally a kid now so I didn’t do anything wrong.” I shake my head, not sure why Julia and Kerry have frozen in fear. Julia is way ahead of me.

“That’s fucking evil,” she rasps. I’m frightened she is about to jump across the table and lamp him. Kerry puts her hand on Julia to restrain her, but her own voice is only a little less angry.

“So you’re proposing to blackmail Emma into living with the Livingstons or you’ll prosecute her girlfriend.” The bottom falls out of my world.

“I am acting in the best interest of the child. Clearly she is not in a safe environment.” There are so many reasons for me to throttle this prick; the fact he’s talking like I’m not in the room is just another.

“If Emma is happy to come live with the Livingstons as their daughter Chloe, which in my view she legally is, then I don’t see any reason for us to bring this to the attention of the judge or police.” I desperately want to smash his fat nose across his stupid, grinning face. It’s at that point that I realise that I’m in love. Hopelessly, madly and completely in love. I know what I have to do. There’s no way I can go on living as Emma if it means Poppy suffering, even for one moment. The fat lawyer continues.

“Of course, the Livingstons are happy to arrange visiting rights for Ms Riley,” he nods at Julia, “say one weekend a month. Plus we would agree not to wipe Mark’s memories from Chloe, with certain conditions of course…” Julia is about to say something but I interrupt her.

“I’ll do it,” I say. “Where do I sign?”

Thanks as always to Robyn Hood, Emily and Cressar. And to everyone who has commented and kept with the story :)

Part 7

Tim sits beside me in the car; up front the Livingstons chat. Every now and then Mrs Livingston looks back at me. I imagine she’s worried that I will have somehow evaporated. My head is still numb, only eight hours ago I was Emma Riley.

"You okay?" Tim asks. I just nod my head. If I were a computer my face would be showing the wheel of death indicating buffering. The journey is slow, we hit bad traffic heading out of Manchester and then again going around Birmingham. It rains a little and I trace the raindrops on the window with my finger.

"Shall we stop at the services?" Mrs Livingston (Lily) asks the car. "Are you hungry Chloe dear?" It takes me a while to realise she’s talking to me.

"Err, no." My stomach feels like it’s filled with molten lead. I remember what Kerry
said last night - that my only chance of returning to Emma's life is to win the Livingstons around and add, "thanks"

We pull into the services off the toll motorway. Mr Livingston (Edward) says it’s a chance to stretch our legs. As we get out of the car I think of running but where would I go? They’d catch me quickly if I headed back to Julia, and I'd get her in trouble as well.

As we walk into the food court I look down at my phone. I've been checking it regularly since last night. I sent Poppy an email telling her everything, from who I was (and how old I was) as Mark, to where I was going to now. I told her that I love her. The only thing I left out was about them using the threat of prosecuting her to blackmail me into being Chloe. I didn't want her to blame herself. I still haven't
received a reply.

"Hey thoughtful," Lily ruffles my hair, "what's going on in your head?"

"What do you think?" I sigh.

"I know it will be difficult darling but you'll see, this is for the best." Her eyes glaze over as she speaks. I wonder who she is trying to convince?

We sit down in the gourmet burger bar and the Livingstons go off to buy food leaving me alone with Tim.

"So this is pretty strange huh?" I can't help but stare at him as he speaks. I haven't had chance to properly look at his face properly since we met. Now I look at him straight on and I see Emma reflected back at me. His nose is longer and his chin is a little straighter. He has the same almond shaped eyes. The biggest difference is his red hair. He gets that from his mother.

"So I am a twin?" a triplet if you count the original Chloe.

"Yup, not identical obviously." He even shares some of my mannerisms, like the way he touches his fingers together when he is thinking.

"So you really don't remember me?" he asks.

I shake my head, but there is something familiar about him. Like seeing an old friend in a crowd.

"And you have the memories of a forty year old man?" Tim leans forward; I wonder how much they have told him?

"Thirty six," I say. Is that really all Mark is now, a set of memories stored in my head?

Lily and Edward return carrying two trays laden with food.

"Cheese burger and chips," says Lily as she hands me a meal, "Your favourite."

Her voice is uncertain, there's a note of fear there. I don't have the heart to tell her I don't want to eat it so I just smile weakly reminding myself of Kerry's advice.

I nibble at the chips chewing extra slowly. I try to focus on the food concentrating on this simple task. After a while I start to feel properly hungry; did I even eat anything last night?

"Looks like you are enjoying that," Lily runs her fingers through my short hair, "it is a shame. You used to have such lovely hair," my body tenses up, I don't think I can handle all this touching, "did 'Julia' make you cut it off?"

I shake my head, my mind shutting down. The wheel of death spins again.

"Well, maybe it will grow on me," Lily says, I get the impression this isn't the end of it.

Edward and Lily talk to each other and I go back to my food. I look up at Tim. He eats quickly, unrestrained by the thought of being watched. It makes me smile, reminding me of how I used to eat when 'I', or 'Mark', was a teenager.

Something Edward says catches my attention, "Did you just say something about Doctor Fields?" I ask.

"Yes," Edward looks surprised I've butted in, "He's working for New Body now. He'll be looking in on you from time to time. In fact we really need to arrange a consultation for Chloe in the next couple of days," the last part is directed at Lily and again I am left out of the conversation.

I think about Doctor Fields and how his report on my body led me to be reclassified as a thirteen year old. And now he's working for New Body, with a healthy private sector pay packet no doubt.

"Lily," I say, "can I go the toilet?" hating the fact I have to ask permission.

"Of course dear, but call me mummy," she smiles at me.

It is already dark by the time we reach my new home. The house is new, although built to look like it is Victorian. Tim tells me there's a river that runs behind the house, a tributary of the Thames. The house is set off from a small road with large trees shielding it from view. The street has a number of houses similarly hidden from public view. I guess the rich like their privacy.

Gravel crunches under my feet as I get out of the car. Given the size of the house I half expect a butler and line of maids to meet us as we reach the front door.

"Can I show Chloe her room?" Tim asks his mother. I get the feeling Lily is unsure but answers yes. Tim takes my hand and leads me up the stairs. His arms are strong; my guess is he's good at sports.

First we pass his room and I get a glimpse of posters of rugby players. Not knowing much about the sport I don't recognise any of them.

'My' room is different. It's not overtly girly, there's no pink walls or lacy bedding, but it is definitely the bedroom of a girl in her early teens. On one wall is a poster of a boy band I don't recognise. I spot a MacBook Pro with a sticker of some tween girl singer on the case. There is a cuddly white rabbit sitting amongst the pillows.

I run my hand along the bed's duvet. The cover is pastel yellow, matching the rest of the bedding. The material feels expensive. There's a table next to the bed with three framed photos on it. The first shows Lily and Edward relaxing at some summer party. They are smiling with none of the stress lines I am used to seeing on their faces. The next shows Tim and Chloe on some Mediterranean holiday. My guess is that the two of them are about ten in the picture. I’m surprised to see Chloe with the same red hair as Tim and Lily. Tim, already a fair few inches taller than his sister, has a protective arm around her.

The final photo is of Chloe standing next to another girl. Both girls are wearing Brownie uniforms. They smile nervously back at me. I feel a little faint and have to sit down on the bed, still clutching the Brownies photo.

"You okay?" Tim stands in the doorway of the room, his hands in his pockets.

"To be honest, I don't know," I can feel myself on the verge of tears and I try to fight them back. Tim comes in moving slowly to the bed. Finally he sits down next to me putting a reassuring arm around my shoulders.

"This is all pretty crazy huh?"

"Yeh," I sniff. I start crying properly now. Tim squeezes my arm and, after a moment's hesitation, I rest my head on his shoulder. After a few minutes I pull myself together. Tim is reluctant to go but eventually leaves saying that he's knackered. Only when he has left do I realise how tired I am. I just about have the energy to pull my jeans and jumper off and grab an old t-shirt from my bag. I leave my clothes in a pile in the middle of the floor. Why shouldn't I? Before sleep takes me I check my phone again. There’s still no reply from Poppy.

I wake up in the night, bright moonlight shining in from the window. I was having a nightmare about being shrunk down to the size of a baby and being trapped in a nursery. It takes me a few moments to work out where I am. Looking around the room I notice my clothes have been picked up and hung carefully over the back of a chair. There’s also a glass of water on my bedside table, from which I take a few sips before returning to a restless sleep.

Doctor Field's new office is in an expensive looking research facility outside Milton Keynes, about an hour's drive from the Livingstons’ house. Once again I am lying on a medical bed. Through the large windows that make up one whole wall I can see the first signs of spring. How funny to think it’s only been about eight months since I was Mark.

"How are you feeling?" There is warmth in his voice.

"Fine." There is none in mine.

"I expect you’re getting used to wearing medical gowns," and his voice is
light, ignoring my abruptness. I don't reply.

Once again I have to go through the indignity of a full medical exam, including those freezing stirrups again. Why they can't find a way to heat them I don't know. I let him poke and prod me, putting up no real resistance but not exactly helping him either. Finally he asks me to lie back on the bed before attaching electrodes to my head. I feel warmth spreading through my body, like I ‘ve been immersed in a pleasantly hot bath.

"So now I am going to do a scan of your brain. I want to see what’s happening and let you have access to some of Chloe's memories, the ones that were implanted there before the whole..." his voice trails off and for the first time his pleasant demeanour slips, "... before the whole 'confusion' began."

"The judge says you have to keep Mark's memories," I warn him. "Yes, that’s true," he sounds distant. He turns and looks at the screen of the computer my electrodes are attached to. I watch him typing something into the interface. "But we are allowed to activate the 'Chloe' elements that are already there," he looks at the screen, not me. "From what I’ve heard, some of those programmes have been coming through already?" I shake my head, not knowing what he means.
He looks directly at me for the first time in a while.

"The incident with the Noah boy?" I don't want any more experiences like that.

"Look, I am not sure about this. I should talk this through with Lily and Edward," I say, trying to keep my voice calm and reasonable.

"Don't worry," again he looks away from me, "your parents have already signed the consent forms."

"I really don't think... hey! Why can't I move my body?" It’s true. Everything from my neck down is frozen.

"While you are hooked up your body is controlled from here," and he points dispassionately at the computer. "I've allowed you to keep control over your head and vocal cords, but now I think it’s time for a little sleep."

I start to protest but can do nothing as he places a silver disk on my forehead. I try to shake it off but the world fades to black. Then, nothing.

The next thing I know, I’m waking up on the same bed as before. The room is completely dark. My mouth tastes of metal and my legs and arms all ache. I try to lift my head but can't, it feels too heavy. Hair brushes against my cheeks and I realise it’s long again. How did they do that? What else have they changed about my appearance? I feel like I have gone ten rounds in the boxing ring. I start to cry, I’m not sure why, and then tiredness takes over again.

Back at the Livingston's the next morning I feel withdrawn. My body aches and my head feels cloudy. Lily lets me go straight to bed, saying I’ve been through a lot. Seeing as she's the one putting me through it I don't answer her. Getting up to my bedroom I find a series of packages. At first I think they must be presents from Lily and Edward and almost give them a kick. Then I spot that they have Julia's return address on them.

I rush to open them. I could cry, but this time from joy. She's sent me my records and record player. There's a note too! I rip the paper off and read it:

Hang in there, kiddo. I'll be visiting soon xxx

I want more, a date, a time, more about everyone back home. But it doesn't really matter, I’m so happy I kiss the little note. I spring up and go over to Chloe's notice board. I take down all the photos, swimming certificates, postcards and other things, planning on replacing them all with the note. I only stop when I come to the last photo. It shows Chloe standing between two boys, both much taller than her. This first boy I recognise as Tim, the other I don't know but somehow I can't keep my eyes from him. After a few moments I pull myself together and take it down. I find a cardboard folder in one of the desk drawers and place all the items in it. After a moments thought I put the photo on the top and place the folder back in the drawer.

Returning to my records I spend an age carefully unwrapping each one and checking their condition. I make a space on Chloe's shelf and put them there in order. I spend another half hour deciding on the perfect space for the record player. At first I think next to the bed, but then I worry I’ll knock it over in the middle of the night. Finally I select a space on the desk. It means taking down another photo, this one a team photo for the school hockey team, but that doesn't bother me. I place it in the same drawer as the others. Just before I shut it, my eyes come to rest on Chloe. She looks about twelve, sitting crossed legged in the front row. I recognise her coy smile; I’ve seen it in the mirror many times.

Finally I select a record to play: The Queen is Dead by The Smiths. They want a teenager? I’m going to give it them one. Walking across the room I stop in front of the full-length mirror. Strange, I think, and I stand up on tiptoes. Is it in my mind or am I a little smaller? I put my hand on top of my head and measure it against the backdrop of my room. My head reached just above the third shelf in the bookshelf, now it’s on the same level. But then, I’ve just filled them with records. It probably just looks that way.

The next morning Lily insists we go to the shops. I’m due to start at a new school in a few weeks, right after the Easter holidays. She drives us through a series of villages on our way into Oxford. Each village is made up of ancient looking buildings, all thatched roofs and stone churches. It seemed more like a Hollywood set than the Britain I’ve grown up in.

We finally park in a small car park off the ring road, just outside Oxford city centre. There's a Sainsbury's supermarket on one side and a warehouse on the other. This feels much more like the country I've known all my life. Lily tries to engage me in conversation but I'm not taking the bait. I feel like I'm recovering from the flu. All my joints ache making me feel like I’m eighty. I pull the hood of my hoodie over my head and take a little pleasure when I hear Lily tut.

First there’s a trip to the hairdressers. The shop is large and expensive looking. As we wait there are up to date magazines to flick through and an assistant comes and offers us drink. Lily orders a small glass of Prosecco for herself and a strawberry and apple smoothie for her 'daughter'. I'm too intimidated by the environment to tell her I don't like smoothies. The hairdresser, Jeremy, is a tall thin man with immaculate facial hair, halfway between a full beard and designer stubble. I wonder how often he trims it? He speaks with a German accent and smothers me in so many compliments it’s hard for me to keep my moody persona. Only when I realise that most of the compliments are really directed at Lily, 'your daughter has such great hair, a mix of auburn and red, just like yours', do I start to pout again.

The haircut takes a hell of a long time considering all he really does is add a straight fringe. I still haven't worked out how Doctor Fields made it grow so long? Every time I come to ask I find my nerve going. As Jeremy adds some 'layering', which makes it sound like he's going to coat me in paint, I look at my face. Is my hair turning red? While Jeremy talks to his assistant I turn my head from side to side. I notice a few freckles on the end of my nose; were they there before? It’s a very strange thing not to be able to trust your own face.

With my hair bouncing down either side of my face I’m dragged around one fancy shop after another. The worst is a lingerie shop. I could drop down dead as Lily holds different bras and pants up against me, testing their suitability.

"How about these? They’re for a younger woman, but they’re not too young," she says as she places a pink bra with little bows on it against my chest.

"I don't need new underwear," I hiss. "Julia bought me plenty."

"I don't know sweetheart," Lily looks at me appraisingly, "I'd say your bras are a little loose on you." She turns back to the bras and picks out more for me to try. I feel slighted, like a boy whose been told his penis is small. Absentmindedly I reach up and feel my breasts. I suppose they are a little on the small side. Up until now I've been glad they aren't so noticeable; now I find myself crossing my arms defensively. Lily turns back to me and sees my arms crossed.

"Don't worry dear, the right bra can do wonders," she winks. I can feel my face burning red, both with anger and embarrassment. Without looking at me she thrusts five or six bras into my arms. I storm off to the changing room not able to look the girl who hands me the token in the eyes as I enter.

With a sigh I remember coming into the changing rooms in the Arndale Centre with Poppy and Esse. These ones are much bigger with comfortable seating in the centre of a circle of ten cubicles. All the surfaces of the walls and cubicles are covered in mirrors giving me the uneasy feeling of been surrounded by hundreds of my clones. I feel slightly strange looking at myself head to toe. Rather than making me look tough and in control my skinny jeans and hoodie make me look young and small.

After what feels like hours of being dragged around to shop after shop we finally reach the highlight of our tour. Jacksons looks like a shop from Harry Potter. The Victorian-like windows are filled with four child-sized mannequins each in different private school uniforms. I sigh as we get close.

"So you are sending me off to boarding school?" I feel only contempt; they’ve gone to all this trouble to take me from my chosen world only to dump me on to a bunch of overpaid private school teachers. Julia would never have done this.

"No, no," says Lily smiling to herself, "not every private school is boarding only. Saint Anne's is for day pupils as well." She looks at me directly and adds, "I'm not losing you again." I sigh again - I should have guessed.

Mr Jackson is easily in his fifties with thin, almost white hair, and small spectacles. I dislike the way he moves me without asking talking directly to Lily and ignoring me.

We try on several uniforms all with a red and gold theme. There’s a gingham summer dress, pleated skirt and grey V-necked jumper and blazer both with a red, black and gold coat of arms over the left breast. With the dress, blazer, and skirt Mr Jackson ads pins to help shape them. Several pins stick into me making me jump.

"Can you tell her to stand still," and again he speaks to Lily, not to me. I ball my fists, wanting to strike out at him. I think Lily must see this because she tells me to calm down and do as Mr Jackson says. I’m about to lose it with her when I hear myself speaking.

"Yes, Mummy. Sorry, Mr Jackson." I want to scream. I feel like I’m going to go postal, but then something strange happens. I find myself relaxing and letting Mr Jackson move me around as he goes about his business. Later, while they try out different straw boaters on me he looks directly at me and I even find myself smiling back at him. During the car ride home I am quiet looking out of the window. I wonder what is happening to me and what am I becoming?

"There’s something we need to talk about," Lily says, looking over at me. You’re telling me? I think.

"What?" I can hear the sulky teenager in my voice.

"Next weekend is your first visit with this Julia woman," Lily turns back to the road her expression unreadable. Yes! I’ve been so caught up in my own misery that I’d forgotten.

"Are you okay with that? You don't have to if you don't want to..." There’s hope in her voice but she keeps her eyes on the road.

"I can't wait," I say, folding my arms. I see her shoulders slump and for a moment I feel bad.

"Fine, but it’s the weekend before you return to school so I want you back in time for Sunday lunch.” Her voice is tough and superior again and I lose all my new-found sympathy for her. "We have some friends coming over to celebrate," she adds.

Nine o'clock in the morning, still an hour left until we leave to meet Julia. I watch the light rain from an April shower spatter against the window pain. The record I’ve been listening to has finished and I don't have the energy to change it. I keep thinking how things could go wrong. What if Julia is caught in traffic and is hours late, what if something happens at work and she can't come at all? I needn't have worried as moments later I receive a text:

Julia: I’m here, can't wait to see you! Xxx

I hold the phone to my chest, feeling like I could shout for joy. I text her back telling her how excited I am. I wonder if she's seen or heard anything from Poppy? The thought puts a dent in my mood.

We meet at a chain coffee shop near the centre of Oxford. I can see her through the window as we approach. The road is busy so we are waiting on the opposite side for a while. She’s reading a book, or at least trying to. Every couple of minutes she looks up at the door. It feels odd walking in with Edward, as if he's my personal guard. He takes off his coat as we go inside. It is strange to see him not wearing a suit. He seems smaller and less dominant, somehow.

Julia stands up, waving to me although she must know I've seen her. I might once have been embarrassed but now I’m filled with happiness. I can't stop myself running to her and hugging her. We are both crying; inwardly I’m grateful it is still early-ish on a Friday and so there aren't too many onlookers.

After a couple of minutes Edward speaks, "Chloe, why don't you go and buy yourself something," he says, handing me a ten pound note. "Julia and I just need to talk before I leave." I’m suspicious but when I look at Julia she nods her consent. One of the old women from the back of the shop gets to the counter before me. She takes an age chatting with the employee, a mixed-race guy somewhere in his late teens, about how the shop used to be butchers. The slowness of her ordering infuriates me. I want to get back quickly so I can find out what Edward and Julia are talking about. I look over and see their faces are grey and serious.

Looking back the old woman is now counting out her money on the counter. Over her back the young man smiles conspiratorially at me. He's quite handsome in a young, teenage way. I feel my cheeks getting warm as I watch the way his auburn hair falls in front of his blue eyes. I snap out of it as the woman hands him her little piles of change. When it comes to my turn I have difficulty getting my words out.

"Er..." For a moment, I worry I’m just going to stare at him. He smiles at me in a friendly manner.

"Can't make your mind up?"

"No, I mean yes," and I know I’m blushing even more now. "I'll have a black Americano please." His smile becomes even broader.

"Unusual choice for a girl."

"I like my coffee like my men, strong and black," I reply, quoting the film ‘Airplane’ but as soon as I've said it I know how it must sound.

"Sorry," I say, "that was a stupid thing to say." He laughs a little to himself.

"You've got good taste, girl." He then sets about making my coffee.

"Can I have a slice of cake as well?" One of the plus sides of being a teenager again is that my increased metabolism means I can eat what I like.

"Chocolate?" he replies without missing a beat.

I take my drink and cake back to the table. Julia looks at me concerned and puts a hand against my forehead.

"Are you okay?" she asks, "You aren't running a fever are you? You look hot."

"No," I stammer, "it's just the central heating in here." Edward makes his goodbyes and leaves. Julia turns to me.

"My, my. I almost didn't recognise you. How did your hair grow so quickly?" I lift up the hair on either side of my face, fanning it out.

"Robot girl, remember?"

"Still, drastically changing your hairstyle in just a month, some would say you’re fickle," Julia smiles at me.

"Wasn't my choice," I reply, "I woke up like this."

"They did this to you without asking?" Julia is shocked. We spend the next few minutes bitching about the Livingstons. I tell Julia how Lily always brings the subject around to her modelling days or how I discovered Edward's secret stash of whisky in his study. When the conversation gets around to Tim I go quiet. I skip over him not wanting Julia to know about the connection we have.

"How are things back in Manc? Richard and the boys okay?" I ask, nervous about bringing up the subject but not sure why.

"Oh, he's great. He's bringing the boys down tomorrow and picking Greta up on the way." She must see my bemused expression. "Surely you must know all this from my emails?"

"What emails?" My voice has gone up an octave. It sounds so squeaky it makes me squirm.

"The emails I've been sending you. You do have access to the internet, don't you?" She asks, looking shocked.

"I do, but I've had no emails. Not from anyone back home," I shake my head. They must be blocking them somehow. I think of Poppy, hope and despair both burn brightly.

We talk rapidly about what to do and Julia promises to contact Kerry as soon as we get back to the hotel. As we get up to leave Julia turns to me.

"You know, even without the hair there’s something different about you." Does she mean my height? Has she noticed something? Are they shrinking me?

"What do you mean?" I ask, my voice wavering.

"The dress," she points to the blue dress (with red tights) I’m wearing. It’s one of the dresses Lily bought for me on our shopping trip, "somehow they've got you out of your hoodie and skinny jeans."

Again I am blushing, "They had to use brainwashing to do it."

As we leave the young man behind the till waves and shouts goodbye. I have to look away to avoid Julia seeing me turn bright red.

I say my goodbyes to Richard, Greta and the boys at the hotel. Both Julia and I are silent through out the car journey. Too soon we’re pulling along the leafy road to Chloe's house. So many thoughts are running around my head. I try to push them out using the lyrics of a song, ‘Birdhouse in your Soul’ by They Might Be Giants:

‘Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch

Who watches over you

Make a little birdhouse in your soul

Not to put too fine a point on it

Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet

Make a little birdhouse in your soul’

It works for a moment. The world is transformed into a scene from a music video (do they still make those?). Julia looks at me, "Are you smiling?" she asks, sounding a little hurt.

"I was just thinking how much fun I had, and how it won’t be so long till I see you again," I smile, thinking how strange it is to be looking up at the woman who was once my wife.

It seems to be all too much for Julia; she bursts into tears as we pull up. Wiping them away she mutters, "I wasn't going to do that," as I take her hand. I can see Lily waiting for us at the door. I feel the anger rising in me. She looks so frail and timid just standing there. She has no right to look that way, not with what she’s doing to us.

We get out of the car and walk gingerly up the gravel pathway. Julia has parked on the road, as if she wasn't sure she'd be allowed to come onto the grounds of the house. I feel awkward walking towards Lily; I want to take Julia's hand in a gesture of support but I worry I'd be getting her into trouble.

"You’re late," Lily speaks to Julia - I am not included.

"Sorry," Julia starts. "Only by twenty minutes, I'm still getting used to the layout of Oxford." They chat for a few minutes about how we spent the weekend. Julia tells Lily about the museums we visited and where we went to eat. For a brief moment there’s a thawing in the Cold War between the two women. Then it’s gone.

"Emma," Julia eyes Lily's stoney expression suspiciously, "Sorry, 'Chloe'," she turns to me, "I'll see you again next month." She flings her arms around me, "Stay strong," she whispers to me. I just nod my head as she holds me by the shoulders.

Lily leads me into to the house. I try not to look back, but I can't stand it and turn around, only I am too late and the door has closed before I get a chance to see Julia one last time. I am tortured by visions of her standing there, alone on the vast gravel path.

"Okay, dear," Lily's voice pulls me back into the room, "we don't have much time, we need to get you ready. The Mathews will be here in fifteen minutes." I nod my head, not knowing to whom she is referring. She runs her hands through my hair, I want to pull back but don't, "At least she got you to wash your hair," Lily says, more to herself than to me. "I've put out clothes for you in your room."

My blood boils and I want to shout and scream at her, but I feel my anger fading as it gets to my mouth. In the end I just storm off up stairs, glad to be away from her.

As I get to the door of the room I feel a little faint. Outside the early spring sun is high and the smell of freshly cut grass is coming through the window. My mind wanders to being sat on the grass next to Mummy watching Tim and a boy called Alex playing tennis on the lawn. I can feel the soft fabric of my red skirt underneath my legs. Both boys look huge to me as I sit on the floor. The ball wizzes past me causing Mummy to say something to the boys. Alex says sorry, then he looks at me and grins.

"You are okay aren't you Sprout?"

Then I come around. I’m lying on top of my bed resting next to the bluey-purple dress Lily has laid out for me. I feel my forehead but it isn't warm. I do feel warm down below. Shit, have I just had the female equivalent of a wet dream? I hug my knees up to my chest, the only time I have felt those feelings, in this body, has been around Poppy. The memory I just accessed was clearly one of Chloe's. I thought of Lily as Mummy and had feelings for this Alex.

Are there more of these memories to come? I shudder as I think of my own thoughts and memories being slowly pushed out by the ghost of Chloe. Without really thinking about it I begin getting ready. Something about the movement calms me down. Perhaps it’s just having something to do. The dress is a check primrose pinafore dress, with a yellow t-shirt to go underneath. For a moment I wonder how I know all that.

Once dressed I go and stand at the mirror, smoothing down any creases as I turn, checking each side. The action calms me down a little more. I choose a record, ‘Pet Sounds’ by the Beach Boys, and put it on. I lie down on the bed, spreading my arms and legs out like a starfish. The sounds mingle with the warm air coming in and I feel a little drowsy. Only the fear of another of Chloe's memories stops me from falling asleep. I’m not sure how long I lie there for, probably not that long, but the door bell rings before the record reaches its second side.

I hear both Lily and Edward calling my name and Tim's feet running down the stairs. I pull myself up hearing new voices in the hallway. As I reach the top of the stairs I see three people. A middle-aged couple, the man balding slightly but with an air of respectability. He wears a polo-neck t-shirt and blue slacks. The woman has the look of faded beauty, her summer dress slightly too small for her expanding waist. It is the third person, a boy, who catches my eye. Unmistakably it’s Alex, the boy from Chloe's daydream. I feel odd, as if caught masturbating. I walk down the stairs my arms and legs suddenly feeling disjointed and awkward. My mind is taken up with concentrating on not falling over. Alex looks a little older than in the daydream, maybe a year or so older than Tim and I. Alex and his parents stare up at me.

"Why, she looks..." the man stammers, "it… it's quite astounding."

"Isn't it," Lily pulls me close to her as I get closer. "We have our little Chloe back," her voice full of joy.

Throughout the meal I feel odd. Firstly, because I’m aware of the controls working on me. Normally they present as a nudge, something like an urge, at the back of my head. It’s like being addicted to cigarettes, or feeling desperate for a drink of water. Also, all through the meal I feel like I’m running on autopilot. I take only small amounts of food, and only when it’s offered to me. I only speak when asked a question. Secondly, because I can't help shooting little glances at Alex. Once I catch Lily looking at me and I don't like the knowing expression on her face. Mrs Mathews (Laura) asks me if I am looking forward to returning to school.

"I’m nervous but excited. I can't wait to make new friends," I say, my voice sounding breathless and girlish, which disturbs me.

Only when we go outside to enjoy the last of the sun do I start to feel myself again. As the adults are in the gazebo talking amongst themselves. I spy Tim and Alex sneaking off towards the boathouse on the edge of the river. After a moments hesitation I follow them. By the time I reach them, Tim has pulled out a cigarette and passed one to Alex.

"Hey, you shouldn't be here," Tim chides me.

"No reason why I can't," I say annoyed at the pout in my voice. "Anyway, you shouldn't speak to me like I'm your little sister. We’re twins, remember?" I notice Alex can't quite look at me, but eventually he speaks.

"Go on, let her haveone too." Tim shrugs and hands me a cig. I put it in my mouth and look at them.

"Got a lighter?" They both laugh.

"What?" I say. Tim looks to Alex and they both grin sheepishly.

"I can't quite get over you having a Mancunian accent," Alex laughs. "Tim said it was strange." I shrug and accept the flame from Alex's lighter. Tim looks around the corner keeping an eye out for the old people. At first my cigarette won’t light and I have to move closer, blocking out the gentle breeze. Before I know what’s happening, Alex reaches up and pushes a rebellious strand of hair behind my ear.

"You should be careful," he say, shooting me the same smile as the one from Chloe's daydream, "You don't want that red hair catching on fire."

The next day is Monday, my first day back at school. The weather is still unseasonably warm so I select the gingham dress to wear. I stand in front of my mirror assessing how I look. The dress fits fine but the school blazer, which I am obliged to wear through the whole academic year, looks too big. I grimace at myself convinced I look even younger than the thirteen years I am forced to pretend to be. Lily yells for the third time that we’re running late. I stick my tongue out at the mirror; I don't know what she’s complaining about, it’s not like she has to get to work or anything.

Tim waves me off at the front door. He’ll be returning to his boarding school on Wednesday. It feels funny for him to be leaving, he's the only person I can really talk to here.

The drive feels odd. I know they picked a school the original Chloe didn't attend, since they don't want me to be treated anything other than 'normal'. Thinking about it with my arms crossed I laugh. I'm a thirty six year old man in the body of a thirteen year old girl; how normal do they think I’m going to be?

"Why do you laugh?" Damn, Lily has caught me.

"Oh, nothing," I say, hoping to sound mysterious. I see her still watching me so add, "Just a joke Alex made yesterday." I feel my cheeks turn red, why did I chose Alex? I could have picked Tim, the lie would still have been the same. I see Lily smirking in the mirror and fold my arms in a huff.

The school looks expensive. There's a sign on the gate advertising its new gym and Olympic sized swimming pool. The building is mostly an old (but well maintained) Victorian edifice, but there's a modern annex on one side that's mainly metal and glass. As we get out in the car park I watch the other girls stream in. They look so different to from what I’m used to. I’m now going to be spending my day in a totally female environment. What's worse is that they will see me as one of them.

My first day is spent like most first days, trying to find my way around. About half of the girls tower above me and I have to spend much of my time ducking to avoid the swinging of their bags. The older girls already have their cliques and stand around in gangs; are they trying to intimidate me? Compared with what I’ve seen in comprehensive schools they’re not all that, but still I keep away from them.

At least I’m no longer the smallest in my year. In fact there are only a couple of girls taller than me in last class. This is English Lit, something I've been looking forward to. It’s noticeable how much smaller the classes are at a private school, only going to show how unequal our society has become. I sit near the back hoping to avoid being noticed. I don't know how long I’ll be here, it could be nearly another three years. I have no intention of finding trouble. The teacher has started reading the register when a group of four girls walk in late.

"Sorry Mrs Stubbs," says a tall blonde girl, clearly the group's leader. Her skirt is a few inches shorter than school regulations permit and I can smell the faint whiff of perfume. They come and sit at the table in front of mine. Without realising it, I have been staring at the tall blonde.

"What are you looking at?" she hisses at me. I just shrug my shoulders, not knowing what to say. She stares daggers back at me; so much for staying out of trouble!

The rest of the lesson continues uneventfully. Mrs Stubbs, with her thin reedy voice, isn't a patch on Mr Hulse but the book we’re doing, The Great Gatsby, is one of my favourites. Halfway through we have to pick a study partner. At first I’m worried I’m going to be left alone but a short Asian girl wearing spectacles comes over to me and offers me her hand.

"Hi" she says, "I’m Andi." Her accent sounds American to me.

"Hi Andi," I take her hand, grateful that someone’s speaking to me. It’s not lost on me that the 'mean girls' clique are glancing our way.

"Don't worry about them," Andi's voice is quiet. "Tina and her gang hate everyone", she smiles.

Andi and I sit down and start working through our question sheet. At some point Mrs Stubbs must have crept behind me as I jump when she speaks just behind my ear.

"Very impressive, Chloe!” she says. “How did you know about the poster with the eyes being added after F Scott saw the cover design?"

"Just read it somewhere I suppose," I say. I had, of course, covered this book at university.

When Mrs Stubbs has left, Tina turns around and mouths, "Just read itsomewhere" at me, then hisses "swot!"

I just shrug at her, I suppose it is a bit swot-like, but Andi pretends to winch up her middle finger. This earns laughter from me and looks of horror from Tina and her gang.

"Mrs!" Tina calls out, "Andi just gave me the finger!" The class erupts into a fit of giggles. I relax a little; clearly Tina is no formidable enemy like Jessie. No one likes a snitch, not even the teachers. The bell rings and I start packing up my bags.

"One more thing girls," Mrs Stubbs shrill voice cuts through our chatter. "It is our turn to put on this term's school play." She moves through the class handing out flyers. "This term we’re covering the Great Gatsby, so Mrs Turner will be expecting a good turn out from this class at the auditions." She hands Andi and I a flyer each that we study closely. There's a stylised drawing of a flapper girl along with a time and date about two weeks from now.

"Do you think you'll try out?" Andi asks. At first I was thinking of throwing it away; why would I need the extra hassle? Then I think it might be a good excuse to get me out of the house.

"Maybe," I say.

"You should," she enthuses.

Maybe I should. After all, who knows more about pretending to be someone
else than me?

The weeks pass by slowly. The brief period of good weather has gone and we’re met with the more seasonal showers. The house feels strange with Tim gone. I'll often go lie on his bed of an evening staring at the posters on his wall. Along with the usual rugby posters there's one of a model with next to nothing on draped over a car bonnet. I'll often bring my homework in with me, but then find my eyes drifting to the model's vacant stare. I’m half wanting to kiss her, half angry that he's turned on by such a crappy stereotype of womanhood.

One evening Lily catches me in there. At first I think she's going to hit the roof as she normally does when I stray from the good-little-Chloe path. However she just smiles at me knowingly and tells me that she misses him as well. After that I stop going in there, not wanting to give Lily a victory.

I’m becoming good friends with Andi; we both stand out against the plastic rich girls who surround us. Her mother is a Japanese musician who came to the UK to study, her father is a writer of Sci-fi books. I make a note of his name and plan to check him out. Unlike me, she’s a live-in student, staying in the dorms. Her father, whom she clearly adores, has to do book reading tours and her mother is often away touring with her orchestra. She has developed a thick skin to cope and is more than happy to tell Tina and the others where to go.

"I hate the meek little Japanese girl stereotype," she tells me. "Fuck that."

Curfew for the boarding girls is at nine o'clock so we'll often go and hang out in the village. Sometimes at the library, which has a coffee shop attached, other times we'll hang around one of the buss shelters smoking cigs. Funny, I was never much of a smoker as a guy. One evening two lads from the local comprehensive join us. One of them, Rick, dominates the conversation.

"Yeah, you should have been here last week, it proper kicked off." I smile at his attempts to sound tough as I sit on the top of the bench, my feet on the seat and my elbows resting on my knees. He keeps glancing at me, which makes me smile, but I can tell Andi is a little interested.

Rick's mate is called Billy. He has slightly longer hair than Rick and seems more shy. He laughs at Rick's jokes but has a way that restrains, even calms him down. He seems the more interesting to me than Rick and I suspect he'd make a better choice for Andi as well.

"What's that?" I say, pointing at the black folder under Billy's arm.

"Nothing, just life drawing," he smiles. His voice is soft and I have to strain to hear him.

"Life drawing?" I say, "my girlfriend does that, give us a look," I say,extending my hand to take it.

The boys look a little shocked but Andi just smiles wisely; I’ve already told her.

"Okay then," he says, handing me his folder. As I flick through he talks to me.

"So, you’re gay then?"

"Yup," I say, not wanting to dwell on it.

"Cool," he smiles. It is a genuine smile. He looks over at his friend who seems a little uncomfortable. "Don't mind him, he's slow but he'll get there." Billy winks at me and I think how he's not bad looking, all he needs is some extra confidence. I should find a way to set Andi up with him.

I tell Billy his drawings are good, because they are, especially for a fourteen year old. We keep talking, mainly about things I don't really know much about such as Pokemon Go. I just nod and smile, pretending to fit, pretty much like most teenagers. These guys are nice but I'm missing my Manchester Crew. I glance down at my watch - it says half seven. I'm going to be in trouble, I should be back by now.

"Hey, want to go to the chippy?" asks Rick.

"Sure," says Andi, leaping off the bench. She's really in to him, even though Billy would be perfect for her. They remind me a bit of Pete and Esse I think.

"No can do," I say with a sigh. My visit with Julia is coming up soon, I don't want to give Lily any excuse to cancel. Andi practically begs me, and the guys add extra peer pressure.

"No, sorry girlfriend, the evil witch has got me on a tight leash." I feel bad, as I know she feels awkward about hanging out with them on her own.

"Hey, no worries," Andi finally gives up, "how about we walk home together?" I agree, happy not to be walking alone in the dark. The Livingstons’ house is on the way back to the school from where we are. I take out my phone and start texting Lily that I’m on my way. Rick looks crestfallen, but Billy smiles at us.

"Why don't we hang out some time?" he asks. I see Andi smiling at me hopefully.

"Sure," I say. What can be the harm? He knows I’m gay.

"Give me your phone." Before I can answer he’s taken it out of my hand. He flicks through to my contacts and enters his name and number.

"Text me," he says, "then I'll have your number."

I just nod dumbly. I stay silent on the walk back as Andi rabbits on about Rick and how cute he is. "Billy's pretty cute too," she adds, then looks at me strangely. "Are you sure you’re gay?"

"As sure as you can be," I reply, but my mind wanders to Alex and how his hair falls in front of his eyes. Andi says goodbye at the end of my road. We hug, it’s been a good evening. The road is well lit, but many of the lampposts have been shielded by the braches of trees casting long shadows across the road. As I get closer to the Livingstons’ house I notice a shadow across the street moving. Something about it catches my eye and I turn around. I stand still for a moment imagining murderers and rapists hidden in every dark corner. Then a fox emerges from behind a bush and scurries across the road. It looks a lot healthier then the urban foxes I am used to seeing in London and Manchester, but other than that there's nothing strange about the sight. It is easy to get paranoid in this small body.

Saint Anne's has a large, purpose built building to house the drama department. The hallways of which are lined with photos of previous productions. I look at them as we wait outside the main hall to be called in. The costumes are impressive, more like something you'dexpect to find in a small regional theatre than a school.

Andi and Lotte her friend from the dorms, wait with me. I've not spoken to Lotte much; she is in the year above me, but she seems pleasant enough. She has long blond hair she lets fall in front of her face, the way young girls do when they are shy.

"What part do you think you'll audition for?" Lotte asks. I shrug.

"Daisy I suppose?" I hadn't really thought about it. This is really just an excuse to get me away from Lily and Edward one night a week. I guess this being an all girl's school I could try out for Nick Caraway or even Jay Gatsby. Might be nice to wear the trousers again...

"I think all the girls will go for Daisy, it might be risky..." Lotte looks concerned as she says this and is cut off when Mrs Turner invites us all to come into the hall. About thirty or so girls file in. The hall is large and seems brand new. It looks like half the trees in Scandinavia have gone into the panelling around the walls and floor.

Mrs Turner and her two assistants, both girls of around university age, split us up into small groups and get us to stand in circles. Sadly, Andi is put into another group away from Lotte and me. One of the teaching assistants, a tall girl with short auburn hair, comes and joins us. Mrs Turner tells us we are going to be doing a series of improv exercises to warm up. I hear groans from the other girls; like me they suspect we’re going to spend half an hour pretending to be trees.

The improv actually isn't that bad. The teaching assistant, who introduces herself as Claire, goes around the group giving each of us a character and then asking the group for a setting. Lotte gets a bear in a tearoom and actually does a very funny impression of a grizzly sipping out of a dainty little teacup trying not to be noticed. Claire laughs, and I’m pleased to see her making notes on her little clipboard.

When it gets to my turn Claire announces I'll be a middle aged man (for a moment, I worry she knows) and the girls suggest I pretend to be in a pub. I give it a go, shutting my eyes and accessing the 'Mark' part of my brain. For about two minutes I turn a conversation I once had into a little monologue about talking to women in pubs, but not being able to hear over the noise. By the end Claire is smiling at me.

"Not bad," she says, "but you need to work on your mannerisms." She puts a reassuring hand on my arm, "I don't think anyone would mistake you for a guy," she smiles kindly. I guess she meant it as a compliment. After about half an hour we are brought back into a single group. Lotte and I go ad stand next to Andi near the back. Mrs Turner tells us she’s going to ask us to come up in pairs and read sections of dialogue.

The first up is Tina and an older girl. Mrs Turner gets them to try the scene where Nick asks Daisy of if she knows Gatsby. First she gets Tina to play Daisy and then she swaps it around. Tina makes a timid Daisy but even I have to admit she's pretty good as Nick.

We sit on the floor as everyone’s asked to come up in ones and twos. I can feel the polished floor against my bare skin as I sit cross-legged. Lotte and Andi chat away but my mind is drifting. I think of Poppy and wonder what she’s doing right now - is she thinking of me? I haven't tried to contact her since I discovered my emails, and possibly my texts as well, are being blocked. I have half a plan to buy a disposable phone, but I haven't put it into action. Would Julia help me? She doesn't like the Livingstons but she's also sticking by Kerry's plan to try and win them over.

"Hey, cloth ears," Andi nudges me, "they just called you and Lotte." I look up and see Lotte is already halfway to the stage. I jump up as fast as I can and nearly topple backwards.

"Careful Bambi," a voice calls out from behind me and I turn to see some of Tina's friends tittering behind me. I pull my little shorts back into shape and check that my t-shirt is still tucked in right then set off not looking back. Mrs Turner asks Lotte and me to improvise a scene where Daisy and her friend Jordan Baker are talking together. She then gets us to do it again, this time with the two friends gossiping about Gatsby and Nick. I try channelling Kathryn Hepburn and am surprised at how good my New England accent sounds; I was never much of a mimic. Lotte’s even better. The whole hall creases up at her Valley Girl impression. Only the two girls who came with Tina look unimpressed. The expressions on their faces make them look like they just swallowed wasps. Tina, however, doesn't look upset; in fact she has a very serious look on her face. She must be really into her acting.

Eventually Mrs Turner says "Go and sit down". Lotte is beaming as Claire leads her down the steps. I can see the play will be good for her confidence. Just as I start to follow I feel a hand resting on my shoulder. It is Mrs Turner's.

"Not you dear, I just want to try one more thing out." She turns to the audience. "Tina, Tina Abbot, can you come up here please?" I see Tina get up and walk slowly towards that stage. I can't read the expression on her face; I hope this doesn't mean trouble.

After Mrs Turner whispers something to them the teaching assistants bring out two plastic chairs and put them next to each other. I look nervously at Claire, who just winks at me. Clearly she thinks this is going well.

"Right, sit down." Mrs Turner gestures for us both to sit next to each other. We do, neither of us looking directly at the other.

"Chloe, I want you to be Daisy, and Tina I want you to be Gatsby." We both look at her and nod without saying anything. Why am I always the girl?

"Now I want you to play out a scene where your two characters meet again for the first time in years, but I want you to do it without speaking."

I sit there nervously, but Tina throws herself right into it. I’m impressed with how she can transform herself with only a change in posture and a few small movements.

Pushing myself to get into it I turn my back to her, pretending to be scared. Tina puts a hand on my arm trying to pull me around but quickly takes it back, as if scared by the violence of her own action. I look at the red marks on my arm (she really did grab it hard, a proper method actor). I rub my arm as the marks disappear. Then I feel Tina / Jay's fingers on me again. We’re sitting back to back but 'he' strokes my arm with a great deal of tenderness. I try to turn my head but pull back, imagining I’m fighting the fear my brute of a husband will see us. Then I feel Tina putting her hand over my hand, intertwining her fingers with mine.

I don't know if it is acting, but the gesture reminds me of Poppy and I find myself leaning against Tina's back, wishing the warmth of her body was Poppy's.

"Great, just great. Lets end it there." I look up to see Mrs Turner beaming at us. There is even some applause from the crowd. That's as near to ecstatic as you'll get for a bunch of moody teenage girls. As we move to return to the crowd Mrs Turner whispers to us, "I think I may have found my Gatsby and Daisy." I look over at Tina who’s smiling to herself. Oh shit, what have I got myself into?

"Are you coming to the chip shop?" Andi asks me about fifteen minutes later.

"Sure," I say . I'll text Lily telling her the auditions have overrun. I lied earlier and said one of the other girl's parents has offered me a lift home. The girl in question is Suzy from my maths class; I know she'll back me up if I need her to.

"Do you think those boys will be there?" asks Lotte, who's keen to meet Rick and Billy. I guess that's what happens when you live and study at an all-girl's school.

Sadly, Lotte is let down. When we get to the chip shop the boys are nowhere to be seen. We buy a bag of chips between us and take them over to the bus stop. It is late and the stars are already out above us. One of the few perks about my new life in the Oxfordshire countryside is being able to see the night sky.

Lotte and Andi are gossiping about the boys. Andi sounds very impressed with Rick and again I feel a little bad for Billy. I guess it’s a story as old as the hills, teenage girl falls for the bad boy and overlooks the shy friend. I grab a couple of chips while the girls are gabbing. I think again of my plan to contact Poppy. I can't risk telling Julia, if she thinks it is a bad idea she could kill my only chance. I remember the animosity between her and Poppy. No, my best chance is to slip away during Julia's next visit and buy a cheap disposable phone and some credit. I have Poppy's number in my Iphone, even if it won't work. I’m sure I can persuade Julia to take me shopping.

"Hey," I realise Andi is speaking to me, "we have to get going, it's nearly curfew." I look at my watch – shit, is it that late? With all my head full of thoughts of Poppy I hadn't noticed it has gone dark. What an airhead!

The girls walk me back to the end of my road. We hug when we get there and talk excitedly about the play. Both Lotte and Andi think I'll be a shoo-in for one of the leads. I think about what Mrs Turner said but keep quiet, I don't want to sound bigheaded.

"I couldn't believe it when you started doing that American accent. It was perfect," gushes Lotte.

"I’m sure it wasn't," I mumble. She's just being a friend. After hugging them both I set off down my road. The trees are swaying in the gentle wind. Most of them have new leaves now and they cast shadows as I walk. I am humming the song ‘Everybody Loves My Baby’, happily lost in my own little world when something makes me stop. Beneath the tree at the end of our drive is a dark shape, like a large bag or sack. As I get closer I see it is a person, a young woman about
my current age.

As I get closer my mind is full crazy theories as to whom it could be. For a moment I almost convince myself it is the ghost of the real Chloe, come to haunt me. Then I think it must be Poppy. Hope overwhelms commonsense; the figure is about the right age and size.

I am almost running to her now. I get there and grab the figure's shoulder realising that Poppy must be asleep. The figure stirs, her face hidden by a hood pulled over the head. A slim hand pulls back the hood and I’m suddenly staring at a face I recognise immediately.

"J-Jessie?" I stammer. "Is that you?"

Part 8

I stand there gobsmacked.

"Jessie, what are you doing here?" She struggles to her feet; she looks thin and unwashed.

"I came here to see you," she says, her voice broken and uneven.

"You came to see what you did to me," I snap, clenching my fists. "You came to laugh!"

"No!" Her voice is shaky, I can see the fear in her eyes. "The website wasn't me. It was Pui!" I shake my head in disbelief.

"Why should I believe you?" I ask, thinking of Pui, the quiet girl who hangs around with the popular kids.

"Why would I come here if it wasn't true?" She wrings her hands together, almost begging me to believe her. I see her hair is unwashed, matted to her head by sweat and dirt.

"It was still my fault." I’m shocked - I've never heard Jessie admit to anything before. "I think she did it to impress me." We both turn as a light comes on in the hallway. A shadow approaches the door.

"I have a message from Poppy," Jessie hisses, her eyes wild with desperation. Do I trust her?

"Quick," I say pointing to behind the tree, "there's a gazebo in the garden. Hide there and I'll sneak you in when they go to bed." Lily meets me at the door.

"Did I hear you speaking to someone?"

"Just saying goodbye to Andi," I say, hoping this covers it; she approves of Andi.

"I didn't hear a car." My heart sinks, she’s suspicious.

"Suzy's dad parked further up the road. Easier to turn around," I add as an explanation.

Lily doesn't seem totally convinced and glances up the road as I dart in the house. Thankfully she drops it once I’m inside. I wait in my bedroom, listening to the sounds from downstairs. Usually Lily comes up around ten, half ten-ish with Edward following at eleven. However, my late return has disrupted their routine and it’s gone midnight before I dare creep downstairs. With my new, much lighter body weight it’s easy for me to move silently. Even so, I glance at Lily and Edward's bedroom door as I move. There’s no light coming from underneath it, so hopefully they’re asleep.

I reach the kitchen - so far, so good, but this was the easy part. If I had been stopped I could have claimed to be searching for a nighttime snack. Lily’s always on at me about my eating too much ('fat girls don't get good husbands'); she'd easily believe I was snacking.

I go into the utility room and try to reach for the backdoor key. It’s too high up and I have to find the little wooden step ladder the cleaner uses for the windows. It scrapes along the floor as I more it. I stop, frozen with fear convinced it would have been heard upstairs. I daren't move, not even to breath for what seems like and age but I don't hear anyone getting up. Pull yourself together girl, I tell myself, you’re doing this for Poppy.

Unlocking the back door I venture out onto the little step, feeling the cold of the stone through my slippers. I get out my phone and turn it to torch mode, flashing it in the direction of the gazebo. I pray Lily has shut the curtains. At first nothing happens, then I see a dark figure emerging from the gazebo. Jessie moves quickly, bent over in what I guess is the hope it will make her less visible. I doubt it will, but she reminds me of films I've seen of panthers on the prowl at night.

"I was starting to think you'd fallen asleep," she whispers when she gets to the door, then with a little smile she says, "Nice bunny PJs."

I look down realising I am wearing the stupid pyjamas Lily bought me. I was so focused on the message from Poppy I was hardly aware I put them on. Even I have to grin.

"I'm not quite the rock chick you once knew." She laughs; it’s odd all that time I hated her I didn't realise she had such a nice laugh. She starts to talk but I shush her.

"Wait till we’re upstairs," I whisper. As she creeps in I start rummaging through the kitchen
cupboards.

"What are you doing?" she asks, seeing me pull out fruit, as well as chocolate from Lily's personal stash (the one she thinks I don't know about). "Are you planning a midnight feast?"

"It's for you, I'm going to feed you up." I smile at her. Who would have thought I’d be so happy to see my old nemesis? This is how desperate I am for news from Manchester. We creep upstairs - I feel reassured when I hear Edward's snoring but jump halfway out of my skin when I hear one of them turning over. Finally though we reach my bedroom door and creep in. Once the door is locked I go put my dressing gown down over the gap at the bottom and then switch on my bedside light. Jessie whistles.

"Nice place you've got here - big."

I nod, my stomach in knots wanting to know what Poppy has sent. Seeming to get the idea Jessie rummages around in her jacket pulling out a few crumpled pieces of notepaper. She hands them to me with great ceremony and I take them like they contain the whole of my future in them. In a way I suppose they do. I can hardly read the words as my eyes race over them. I catch phrases like 'I love you' and 'I miss you so much'. It’s pure joy to see her handwriting, with its neatness and big friendly loops; it’s almost like talking to her.

"Is that an en-suite bathroom?" Jessie asks, I just nod hardly able to tear my eyes away from the letter. "I'll just make use of it," she mutters giving me some privacy. Finally I’m calm enough to read the letter properly. Poppy tells me how much she misses me, how angry she is at what has happened. She tells me she was inconsolable when she got my email, and how sorry she is that she didn't reply straight away. It took her a few days to get it together and when she tried emailing it just bounced back and her texts wouldn't send. She explains how she confronted Jessie when Greta told her about the 'slut-shaming' website and how they worked out it was Pui who did it, not Jessie. I have only just stopped crying when Jessie re-enters the room.

"How could she do this?" I ask Jessie, feeling close to tears again.

"Don't hate her too much," she says but she can't meet my eyes. "We used to pick on Pui all the time back in the first year. She was this strange kid, her mother from Hong Kong and her dad from New Zealand. Then she started making fun of the other kids. She could always make us laugh so," she shrugs, "we just stopped picking on her." Finally she looks me straight in the eyes. "I created her, made her feel so shitty about herself that she would do this. That's why I had to come and try to make things better."

There’s one subject both Julia and Lily agree on; they both insist on my only wearing skirts and dresses as part of my school uniforms. Possibly they think one day in trousers and my Mark personality will take over? Normally I dawdle when getting ready but today’s different; although I’m not keen to spend another day at St. Anne's I do want to get down to check on Jessie. Passing Lily on the stairs I tell her I’m going down to the boathouse. She eyes me with suspicion.

"What could you possibly want down there?" she asks.

"Science project," I reply, flashing her my sweetest smile, "on what lives in the water. I have to keep a record every day, once in the morning and once in the evening." I spent most of last night coming up with that one.

"Okay, dear, but don't be late and don't mess up your clothes. I have a busy day today and I don't want you to be late." Her busy day probably means a trip to Jeremy the stylist. I knew the excuse would work on her though; school work is the magic bullet with Lily.

I walk past the study on my way out, it’s on the ground floor overlooking the garden. Normally the door would be closed at this time of the day as Edward emails and Skypes his colleagues in other parts of the world, but this time it has been left open. I spot Edward's laptop open on his desktop and an idea pops into my head. I know my laptop must be bugged, or blocked, but they wouldn't have done the same to Edward's. There's no way he would have let them. Suddenly I feel my head go all fuzzy, a little like a migraine. I try to shake it off, unable to concentrate my mind. Only when I get outside in the fresh cool air does it start to go away.

Reaching the boathouse I knock gently on the door. Hearing nothing I look back at the house. I am worryingly exposed but there's no other way in. I take a deep breath and unlock the padlock before slipping in as quietly as possible.

"Jessie?" I whisper. Then realising how useless that is I repeat myself a little louder this time. I hear movement at the back, behind the upturned rowing boat.

"Hi," Jessie says a little nervously. "I thought you were the gardener. He sometimes comes here when he wants a break. He nearly caught me a couple of times."

"Don't worry," I smile at her, "he only comes on Tuesdays." Today is a Thursday. "I brought you some food." I take out the school lunch Lily's cook made me and offer it to her. She takes it from me gratefully. "What will you eat?" she asks earnestly.

"Don't worry about me, they give me plenty of pocket money. I'll just have school dinners." She opens the lid and looks inside. There's some avocado thing, what looks like hummus and dates, some rye bread and a salad with grapes.

"Rich people eat like rabbits," is Jessie's verdict.

"Certainly the women do." I can't imagine either Tom or Edward will be sitting down to salad with grapes for their lunch.

"How do you stand it?" Jessie asks out of the blue.

"Stand what?" I ask.

"Them," she indicates through the wall at the house.

"I just have to, I suppose," I sigh. "There's not much I can do. I’m just biding my time. I think, before you got here, I was broken. Clinging on to little things like seeing Julia once a month."

Jessie nods. She looks so scared and vulnerable I find myself forgiving her for all her past transgressions. She's just a kid, although legally she’s now three years my senior.

"No one should take you away from your mother," she spits and there’s real venom in her voice. I realise I never asked her about her mother.

"How is your mum?"

Jessie fights back what looks like some pretty powerful emotions. "She's been sent back to the hospital. Stupid fucking store bitch shouldn't have ratted on her!" Her voice is raised and I worry someone will hear.

"Is there anyone looking after you?" I ask, feeling guilty that I was so caught up in my own shit I never asked before.

"I told them Aunt Sophie would take me in but she hates mum and never would." Jessie sniffs, a completely different girl to the hard case I remember from Whalley Range. "At least she'll tell the social I’m with
her."

"Won't they check up?" I put a hand on her arm as if to steady her.

"They wanted to put me with a foster family when mum went off her meds two years ago. They won't care now I'm sixteen. They don't have enough people to go around checking, not properly. Aunt Sophie will just say I went down the shops when they call around."

As sad as it sounds I know she’s right. We hug for a little while before I remember the time. "Shit, I better get back to the house. Lily will kill me."

As turn to leave Jessie mutters something. "Sorry, didn't catch that?"

"I said your hair looks nice." Jessie looks embarrassed.

"What?" I'm taken by surprise.

"Long, I mean. It suits you." It’s just a little gesture but I have to turn away to avoid showing my tears to my erstwhile enemy.

"Thanks," I say in a small voice, "and thanks for coming." I turn back and look at her. "I really mean it."

School is buzzing with news about the play. Mrs Turner will put up the cast outside her office at lunchtime. Andi looks a little down in the mouth, so I ask her why.

"You and Lotte are bound to get parts," she huffs kicking at the floor with her shoes. I can see why she would be worried. There are a lot of girls wanting to get in and if we both get parts and she doesn't that would mean us spending a lot of time together without her.

"If you aren't in then I wont do it," I say to reassure her. I mean it too. I had agreed to signing up for the play as a way to get away from Lily and Edward. Since Jessie has turned up there’s less reason for me to be away from the house.

"Don't be silly, you should do it," says Andi, although she looks a little happier.

The lessons in the morning are boring. I enjoy maths the least. I can't help looking out the window thinking about Poppy's voice, what it'd be like to hear it again. I hate the idea of her being upset and I'm not sure I’m strong enough to call her. The teacher starts drawing some equations on the whiteboard which we’re supposed to copy down. I'm just glad there's no need to work anything out. I can let my mind wander. The clock on the wall says it is half an hour until lunch. I could swear it has gone backwards.

Finally the bell calls out lunch. The teacher tries to tell us about the homework we need to complete, but struggles over the din. It’s noisier than usual with at least half the class wanting to know if they got in the play, and the other half just as interested in finding out who’s in and who isn’t. I’m caught up in the crowd as we pour out into the corridor. One girl, Shamshad, tells me excitedly she thinks I'll be Daisy. I’m a little taken aback as we've not spoken more than two words since I started. Several other girls join in; evidently, news of my performance has spread. As we get to the drama department I notice Tina waiting nervously. Her normal bravado has disappeared and she’s biting a nail. I spot Lotte and Andi.

"Hey," I greet them. "Any news?"

"No, the names aren't up yet." Lotte sounds like she’s waiting to see a casualty list from a bloody battle. The volume shoots up as Mrs Turner comes out of her office carrying two large sheets of paper. The crowd surges forward causing Mrs Turner to warn that if we don't get back she wont be able to put the cast list up. We stand in respectful, but impatient, silence as she prints the two sheets of paper. The names on the list are separated into two categories, main cast and supporting cast. Shamshad squeals and turns around to me.

"I knew it," she says breathlessly, "you’re Daisy!"

A mutter of surprise and excitement passes through the gaggle of girls. As the others surge forward I’m pleased to catch a glimpse of Lotte's name next to Myrtle Wilson. I am even more pleased when I see Andi's
beaming face as she returns from the board.

"What did you get?" I have no time to dwell on how girlish and high my voice sounds.

"Oh, just one of the extras in the party scene," she smiles coyly. "But hey, I get all the fun dressing like a flapper and I don't even have to learn any boring lines," she jokes. I laugh but a part of me starts to panic. Do I really have any time to learn lines when I should be devoting my time to finding a way to get back to Poppy?

Lily is as pleased as a dog with two dicks when I tell her.

"My daughter, the actress," she says cupping my face in her hands. Her expression has so much softness in it I almost forget to hate her for a moment. She doesn't seem to notice the emotional turmoil inside me and goes off to phone Edward. "He can take us both out to dinner tonight," she coos, "maybe to that lovely little Italian place in Abingdon."

"I’m just going out to the boathouse," I call to her, glad she’s distracted.

I’m nearly at the back door with a bottle of lemonade and some leftovers from the fridge when she calls out, "Don't forget to change first." I huff and storm upstairs in typical teenage style. After changing into a long grey jumper and flowery leggings I head back downstairs. I look down and see how flat my crotch looks in the leggings. Sighing, I try to pull the jumper down to cover it. I notice I left the food and drink on the kitchen counter. Damn, I need to be more careful.

When I get to the boathouse I find Jessie isn't there. My heart’s in my mouth; where could she be? Looking around the building I see no signs of where she's gone. I take out the secret 'burner' phone with Poppy's number in it. I am glad we had the foresight to put Jessie's number in there as well. I type out a quick message asking if she's okay, then I send another one saying I am leaving the food under the upturned rowing boat. There's no immediate reply. Lily catches me as I return to the house.

"Daddy will be back in about an hour, then we'll head out," she smiles. "I put out that lovely green tulip dress for you to wear." My mind goes back to the horror of clothes shopping with her. "Why don't you jump into the shower and then maybe I could help put your hair into an updo?" I grunt my agreement as there's no point arguing. Anyway, it gives me an idea. I take a towel and head into the en suite bathroom off my bedroom. Once inside I take out the secret phone and dial Poppy; it rings for a while before she picks up.

"Hi," I say, almost in a whisper.

"Hi," she says back and I feel myself melting at the sound of her voice.

The restaurant is fancy but laid back - the sort of place rich people call ‘bohemian’ but real bohemians couldn't afford in a million years. Edward is a little narky, having had to wait while Lily and I changed. I don't think it helps that the waiter pays special attention to both Lily and myself. His ingratiating manner gets on my nerves as well and I don't like the way he puts his arm around my waist to lead me to our table.

Across from our table is a large family with three sons, ranging from early to late teens and one pre-teen girl. The eldest son, I'd put his age at about fifteen or maybe a young looking sixteen, keeps checking me out. He's a prep school type and doesn't seem at all worried that I can see him looking. I tug at the material of my dress wishing I’d worn something a little baggier. No one else seems to mind his staring so I just try and ignore it and eventually I can block it out.

The meal is nice enough. As Mark I couldn't really enjoy Italian food due to a mild intolerance to lactose; Emma’s (or Chloe's) body is more resilient in this respect if nothing else.

"So, I've got some news," Edward says.

"Really, dear, what's that?" Lily then turns her attention to me. "Don't eat so fast dear. It’s unladylike." Before I can say anything Edward continues.

"We've been doing a little work with a firm in Palo Alto, California. They’ve asked for me to come over in the summer and I thought we could make a summer holiday of it." Lily claps her hands together.

"That’s wonderful! Oh, Chloe you’re going to love San Francisco and Disneyland too. Or is it Disney World? I can never remember which is which." I feel a little annoyed at having been relegated to the kids’ attraction. I look up and see Prep Boy smirking at me, clearly enjoying my humiliation. I give him a dirty look back. How will I see Julia if I'm thousands of miles away; how will I keep in contact with Poppy? When we get back home I run upstairs and retrieve the secret phone, which I hid behind a couple of books on my shelf. I see there's a reply from Jessie.

Jessie: Thnk I've fnd smting. Going to chck it out. I'll tll all whn I'm bck Sun.

I read it through a couple of times. Very mysterious.

Saturday morning and I’m hanging out in the kitchen eating cereal in my pyjamas. My laptop is open and I'm watching old episodes of Danger Mouse. Edward’s out playing golf with his friends and Lily’s at the gym doing some sort of spin class. They’ll both be out till dinnertime. I hear the doorbell ringing but don't make much of it. It’s most likely a delivery. Lily’s addicted to buying crap over the internet; I guess it gets her through the long days when I'm in school and Edward’s at work. I hear Lena, who cleans the house on weekends, talking to someone but I don't pay much attention. A couple of minutes later, however, my ears start to burn when I’m sure I hear the name 'Chloe' mentioned. Seconds later I hear footsteps and then Lena enters the room.

"Ms Chloe," she says in her Polish accent, "there's a Mr Billy here to see you." Lena speaks good English but in a very formal manner. I wonder if that's what Lily likes about her?

"Billy?!" I say slightly shocked. I realise I must look a complete sight in the Hello Kitty PJs Julia bought for me all those months ago. I put my arms around my body as if protecting myself from his invisible gaze. "What does he want?" I say, realising how ridiculous I must sound.

"To see you," Lena smiles at me knowingly. She must think my nerves are down to a crush.

"Okay, okay, let me think." There's no way for me to get upstairs without going past the hall where he'll be waiting. I figure out a plan.

"Can you ask him to wait in the living room?" I see the smile on Lena's face getting even broader. "Tell him I'll only be five minutes." I wait in the kitchen until I hear Lena taking Billy into the living room. Then I wait another couple of minutes for Lena to leave, closing the door. Once she has I make a dash for the stairs only to crash into the back of Billy as he comes out of the living room.

"You don't need to get me a Coke, Lena, really I’m fine…" I feel my face burning hot. "Urm, er hi," I say, unable to look him the face.

"Oh, hi Chloe, great PJs." Damn, damn, damn. If I could I'd melt away right there.

"Thanks. Mum bought them for me, I didn't pick them." I feel stupid trying to pass the blame.

"No they suit you," he says with that lop sided grin of his. "Look, I was thinking of getting the bus into Oxford to see the new Marcel Dzama exhibition at Modern Art Oxford and I thought maybe you might like to come?" Now it’s his turn to look sheepish.

"Sure," I say. It actually does sound great. A proper adult activity. A thought hits me. "Why didn't you call or text first?"

"Well, I figured it would be harder for you to say no to my face, and I would never have had the chance to see you in your PJs." There's something very attractive about his mixture of confidence and shyness. I wonder if there's anyway I can get him together with Andi, or maybe Lotte?

"Alright cheeky," I grin, "wait here while I change."

The sun is up and apart from a cool breeze it’s actually quite warm. I feel funny standing at the bus stop waiting to go somewhere; normally it’s just a place to hang out. Billy is relaxed, leaning against the wall talking about some fight that happened at his school. I’m only half listening. I feel strange though, unable to settle. I am constantly aware of how close I am to him and how my clothes are sitting on me. I keep fiddling with the hemline of the short skirt I’m wearing. I'm not sure why I chose it; at first I was meaning to go for my normal jeans, then I changed my mind.

"What are you thinking about?" asks Billy.

"Nothing, just wondering what we’re going to do in Oxford," I cover.

As with many rural services it takes ages for the bus to arrive. The bus is mostly empty as there aren’t many people who rely on public transport in this part of Oxfordshire; mainly teenagers and old people. We pick seats near the back watching as the expensive houses and thick tree trunks go by. The route is a winding one, covering a huge chunk of rural Oxfordshire before meandering into the suburbs of Oxford itself.

Oxford feels different from when I visited it with Lily. Perhaps this is because it’s the weekend, or maybe because the students have come back. It feels more modern and normal. The accents are very different from Manchester but the rhythm of daily life seems familiar.

Modern Art Oxford is a relatively small gallery compared to its grand name. I've hung out in plenty of contemporary art venues back when I was Mark; living in East London they were hard to avoid. Modern Art Oxford seems pretty much what you would expect. It’s all clean surfaces and minimal decor. I look back at Billy and see he is timid about coming in - I guess it's not the sort of space he’s used to hanging out in. I take his hand and drag him through the doors.

Immediately I feel a pang of guilt and remorse for taking his hand. I’m not sure why, after all Poppy isn't the jealous type and all I’m doing is hanging out with one of the few true friends I have in this place.

"Can I ask you a question?" Billy asks.

"Sure." I smile at him. I don't know why but I haven't let go of his hand; I get the impression my mind is stuck in my head and the rest of my body is ignoring its instructions. I wonder where the new instructions are coming from.

"How come you have a northern accent? I mean your family are all from around here." He’s quite cute when he’s being all sheepish.

"I’m from Manchester, I'm only here because of a custody battle." Looking at his blank face I add, "I lost."

"Oh," he says, clearly not understanding but having the common sense not to press any further.

The Marcel Dzama paintings are fantastic. I've seen them before but they still have in impact. What makes it more interesting is watching Billy take it all in. I can almost hear the little computer in his head making whirring sounds as it processes it all. I take a particularly long time to look at a painting of a sad looking tree-man with owls and squirrels living in his head. Something about his resigned expression speaks to me.

Billy squeezes my hand. It’s a gentle movement that takes me by surprise. Something strange happens. As I find my body tingling with attraction my mind starts to clear. As anyone who has been a teenage boy will tell you, this is not the normal way of things. I hadn't realised it needed clearing before now.

Billy’s talking to me and I can't keep my eyes of the way his fringe falls across his forehead. But at the same time my mind wanders back to standing next to the door of Edwards study. To how I had thoughts about going in and using his computer, but then my head had become fuzzy and I had dropped the idea. There must be something in that study that they don't want me to see - why else would they put a block on it?

Billy’s more confident now, leading me around the gallery. The closer we get, the freer my mind becomes. Perhaps by giving the Chloe part of my brain what it wants it relaxes its control over other areas? Once we are outside I decide to try an experiment. Billy’s talking about finding some food for lunch. I hold my breath, tell myself I'm doing it for Poppy, stand on tiptoes and kiss him.

As he pulls me into his arms, turning my peck into a deeper kiss, I feel bad about using him like this. But it works; I feel my mind coming back with even greater clarity. I think about how I'd done nothing to get in contact with Poppy until Jessie arrived. How I’ve let Lily dress me and change my hair with out any real protest. As Billy runs back into the gallery to use the toilet I check the email on my phone. Diving into the draft section I confirm my suspicions. They’re all there, everyone of the emails I wrote to Poppy since getting into the Livingstons’ car. Looking in the inbox I see the emails Julia sent me before visiting. The block isn't on my computer or phone, it’s on me.

"That was great," Billy says, a huge smile across his face.

"Don't get any ideas," I say, really not wanting to hurt his feelings. "I was just checking."

"And, what did you think?" he says with his usual mix of bravado and shyness.

"Not bad," I mumble; I don't want to give the poor boy a complex.

After eating at MacDonald's, which is still as tasteless as I remember, we head back to the bus. Earlier I sent a text to Lily saying I was hanging out with the girls but she'll grow suspicious if I'm not back before dinner.

It maybe my imagination but the closer the bus gets to home, the fuzzier my head feels. I lean that head on Billy's shoulder feeling it clear a little. He leaves me at the end of the road with an awkward goodbye. We don't kiss but I can tell he was thinking about it. I can hear raised female voices as I come in and I find Lily is in the living room chatting away with two middle-aged women. Like her they look well pampered.

"Oh, hello dear, had fun with your little friends?" she asks. From the sound of her voice I can tell she's been drinking.

"It was okay," I say in a non-committal way, hoping she'll leave me alone.

"That’s a lovely skirt you’re wearing." Without asking she handles the fabric around the hem. "I bet the others were jealous." Before I have time for a rebuttal the other women chime in. They ask me about school, clothes and, most embarrassingly boys. My face burns bright red as I think about Billy. I catch Lily watching me with a thoughtful expression.

That night I lie awake wondering how I can use the new information about Billy to my advantage. Perhaps I could invite him around and get him to help me break into Edward's study, but I worry what he'd think getting an invitation like that. Despite my desperation, I don't want to hurt the boy. Finally I start to drift off, knowing Jessie will be back tomorrow with her mysterious news. I'll see what she thinks.

As is common in England at this time of year, Saturday's warm weather is followed by rain and driving winds on the Sunday. I keep to my room, checking the secret phone regularly for news from Jessie. When I hear Lily going into the living room to watch TV I decide to risk calling Poppy. The phone rings but quickly goes to the answerphone. I stammer something about wondering how she is then hang up.

It all adds to my growing sense of unease. Finally around four my phone buzzes with a message from Jessie. She says she’s back, and that I should come to the boathouse as soon as I can. I quickly rush downstairs grabbing my trusty duffel coat and an old pair of wellingtons. I'm going for that ‘Paddington Bear’ look, obviously. Lily stops me at the back door.

"How much longer have you got to keep doing this science project?" she asks.

"Just another week," I improvise. I’m going to need another cover story.

"Okay then. Don't stay out too long, dinner will be ready in an hour." She turns her attention back to her food and I slip out. The wind and rain is getting stronger and I find Jessie squeezed between two crates covered in a blanket. I wonder where she got the blanket from?

"Hey," I smile at her. She smiles back but I can see she’s cold and uncomfortable. "How have you been?" She blows on her hands to keep them warm.

"Not bad,” she answers. "I've found something out." Her face looks stern.

"What?" I ask.

"I got a job, cleaning at that New Body place. I saw the ad in one of the newspapers their Royal Highnesses throw out."

"Smart move, what did you find?" She goes to great lengths to describe the whole experience. How the manager is an old perv but that a woman called Marge, who runs her team, is alright. As she proceeds to go through all the gossip she's found about who fancies whom, I find myself getting frustrated. Finally I lose my patience.

"What did you find, Jessie?" I ask, wanting to shake her by her shoulders.

"I’m coming to that," she protests, as though she hasn't just spent the last twenty minutes telling me a load of gossip about people I'll probably never meet. I hold my tongue. "Well, Marge likes me, see. So one evening she let me do one of the doctor's offices. That's when I see it’s your Doctor Fields's place. So I know I've got about twenty minutes before anyone checks on me. And guess what?" I shake my head but Jessie isn't listening. "the idiot has left his laptop open. Well, I soon found your file."

"What did it tell you?" I ask eagerly.

"Mostly stuff I didn't understand," she says honestly, "but there was something about you and a shipment to some place in California."

"Was it a company in Palo Alto?" I ask.

"Sounds right, does it mean anything to you?" she asks and there's an eager look in her eyes.

"Edward’s arranging a holiday for us out there and he's doing some work with the company," I say, pondering what the connection could be.

"D’you think they are shipping something to help control you while you’re out there?" she says, looking at me. "Perhaps they think you might run away when you get to the States?"

"Plausible," I say, mulling it over. "But it doesn't quite fit. Why go if they think I’m a flight risk?" Jessie just shrugs. I change the subject to Billy and the effect he has on me and her eyes light up at the chance to talk about boys. She makes me tell her everything about my friends at St. Anne's. It strikes me how lonely she must be, and what a huge sacrifice she has made coming here to help me. A couple of times she sneezes and I feel bad for her staying out here in the cold.

"Look," I say, "I've got to head back to the house for dinner now." Jessie looks visibly crest fallen. "But I'll put my blue Tardis lamp" - who would have thought both Chloe and I would be Whovians -"in my window when they’ve gone to sleep. Then I’ll sneak down and let you in. I'll get food and stuff for you as well." We agree, and she looks a lot happier as I leave.

It takes an agonisingly long time for Edward and Lily to go to bed. I feel bad as I watch the weather getting worse and worse outside my bedroom window. It’s a full blown storm now. Eventually, a little after one AM, I’m confident enough to put the Tardis lamp on the window sill. As before I creep slowly downstairs. Finally I open the back door, to be met by a soaking wet Jessie.

"That took ages!" he says in a hoarse whisper. "What kept you?"

"Sorry, sorry," I say as quietly as I can. "they were watching some dumb film." It was something with car chases and explosions. Rich people, poor taste. Go figure.

We creep back up the stairs as quietly as possible but Jessie’s shaking like mad. Half way up the stairs Jessie lets out a massive sneeze. We both stop still, my heart is in my mouth. We wait a few minutes but no one appears thankfully. We continue our way up the stairs and into my room. I tell Jessie to get out of her wet clothes and she calls me a lesbo, but she’s laughing as she does so.

"Ok, shrinking violet, go and change in the bathroom. I think it’s okay for you to have a quick shower." I’m more worried about Edward and Lily been woken by Jessie coughing and sneezing than I am about the shower, which is on the opposite side of my room to their bedroom. When I hear the shower turn on I chuck a t-shirt and a pair of pyjama bottoms into the bathroom for her to change into. Most of my clothes are a little small for her but I think the t-shirt and pyjamas should be baggy enough to work.

I go to the wardrobe and pull out as much spare bedding as I can find, making a little nest by the far side of the bed. Even if Lily comes in before I have time to sneak Jessie out she'll not spot her from the door. Jessie falls asleep pretty much as soon as she crawls into her makeshift bed. I can't complain as she’s sacrificed so much for me, but I do wish we could have talked for just a little bit.

I dream I’m in a giant nursery, locked behind the bars of a playpen. Everyone towers over me, making me feel scared. I try begging them to let me out but all the giant adults just walk by not noticing me. Then I spot Poppy over the other side of the room; I press my face against the bars and try to call for her but she doesn't listen. Next I notice she’s with ssomeone, a man who looks like a grown up version of Billy. Grown up Billy and Poppy walk around hand in hand inspecting the infants in different cots and playpens. They look like a young couple hoping to adopt.

"Poppy! Billy!" I yell at the top of my voice shaking the bars as violently as my little arms will allow.

A nurse comes over and says, "Well, they won't want to adopt a naughty baby like you," and behind her I can see Poppy and Billy leaving.

"I'm not naughty!" I scream in a childish voice.

"Not naughty? Who’s that with you?" The nurse’s voice changes to that of Lily. "Chloe, who the fuck is that in your room?” My eyes shoot wide open and I jump up. Jessie’s quicker on the uptake than me and is already around Lily and has grabbed her damp clothes. I don't dare look at Lily as I hear Jessie tearing down the stairs, then I hear Edward shouting and the front door slams.

"Chloe? Explain yourself!" I finally look at Lily; her face is like thunder. Shit, I think. This means another trip to Doctor Fields.

Thanks as always to Robyn Hood, Emily and Cressar. And to everyone who has commented and kept with the story :)

I hope you enjoy this, the penultimate episode of Consequences

Part Nine

We are sat backstage as Tina searches for illicit cigarettes in her handbag.

"Gawd Tina, I am soooo glad we hang out now," I say in a loud whisper. "I can't believe I was spending time with that munter Andi and her sadsack friends." Tina smiles conspiratorially at me.

"Don't worry about it, Chlo, you were the new kid," she says, resting her hand on my arm, "you could always tell you were worth more."

Mrs Travers's voice comes over the speakers telling us that the dress rehearsal was about to start.

"No time for these," Tina pulls out a pack of French cigarettes and grins. My nerves need the smoke but my eyes are feasting on her beautiful Tom Ford bag. It puts my ugly, last season Burberry to shame. I wonder if I can persuade Mummy and Daddy to take me to the West End at the weekend? I'll have to try Mummy first, she's always on my side when it comes to clothes.

Speaking of clothes, I’m delighted to be trying out our costumes. Tina looks amazing of course in Gatsby's white suit, but I know it’s me who steals the show in my glittering flapper dress. I could be in prohibition New York, maybe on the arm of some gangster. I imagine that townie kid Billy in a broad-shouldered striped suit and carrying a violin case under one arm. Not that I'd ever lower myself to dating a townie, but the thought does make me tingle a bit.

As the cast gets together at the front of the stage so Mrs Travers can address us all I spot Andi and Lotte sulking off to one side. They keep shooting me little glances. Jealous, no doubt, but what did they expect? They just don't have what it takes to hang out in the popular crew. Sure they were nice, not that I would admit that to Tina or any of the others. I do feel a little sorry for them, but you can't let people like that hold you back. That's what Mummy always says.

Mrs. Travers tells us not to worry; dress rehearsal is where we get to make all the mistakes, which is good because shit keeps happening. My big scene with Tina, where Gatsby and Daisy set eyes on each other after years apart is ruined by a fake pillar collapsing at the wrong moment. Honestly, you wouldn't have thought the art department had had two months to get things right.

"Want to go get some fries afterwards?" Tina is referring to our ritual of sharing a small McDonalds fries after rehearsals, "Daddy has left me Mark so he can drive us." Mark is Tina's dad's driver. She's so lucky to have someone to take her where she wants to go, I have to depend on Mummy like I'm some little kid.

"No, sorry I can't. The play is on Saturday," - two days – "so I've got to purge!" I see Tina pout at me. "You’re lucky," I admonish her, "you can hide in that suit, I've got to fit into that dress." I think of how amazing I am going to look. Mummy will be there, and there will be photos and filming. These things will matter when I am a famous actress.

I stub out my cigarette on the red brick wall next to the fire exit and air kiss Tina on both cheeks. The village is quiet and dark as I walk. I close my eyes and enjoy the warm air against my skin. I’m so glad I no longer have to wear that high street bought duffel coat. I have no idea why Mummy doesn’t just throw it out!

As I get close to the bus stop I spot Andi and her friend Lotte. They have coats on but underneath I can see they’re wearing their costumes. How sad I think, they mustn't have anything better to wear. I nearly fall over when I spot two boys with them. My hand goes to my mouth as I recognise Billy. The shocks keep coming as I see Billy's friend kissing Andi.

How is that possible? How can she have a boyfriend and not me? I hang back in the shade not wanting to be spotted. Billy's friend isn't bad looking; how on Earth did she pull him? I know that townies have lower standards but come on! Another figure arrives, a girl I think, although it’s hard to tell with the hood of her hoodie pulled up. She’s carrying an open bag of chips, I can smell them from here. It makes my stomach growl so loudly I fear I will be spotted. No food can taste as good as thin feels I remind myself.

My head is hurting. It’s a funny type of headache, it feels like someone, or something is pounding on the back of my head trying to get in. It must be the weirdness of seeing Andi with a boyfriend. I turn back on myself deciding to take the lane that goes past the Duke's Arms and avoid the centre of the village all together. The fresh air does the trick, clearing my head. It takes me an extra ten minutes but it’s worth it. Mummy’s still up when I get in. She’s sitting in the living room chatting to someone so I decide to take a look.

"Hello, baby," she says; I hate it when she calls me that! "You’re late," she adds casually.

"Rehearsals ran late, problems with the set," I have my excuse ready. What I see makes me stop. "Tim!" I exclaim, "You’re here!" I run to where he’s standing and throw my arms around him.

"I couldn't miss your theatrical debut, could I?" Tim says smiling as I hug him half to death. We sit down and I proceed to tell Tim everything about the production and explain the clothes, especially those worn by Tina and I, in depth.

"But I thought you didn't like Tina?" Tim says suspiciously. I brush it away.

"That was before."

"Your sister is turning into one of the most beautiful women at that school. It’s only to be expected that the popular girls would recognise her for who she is," Mummy says, tousling my hair playfully and then gets up. "I'm going to have a glass of wine. Does either of you want something – a Coke, maybe?”

Tim says yes but I shake my head; even Diet Coke will make you fat. I do wish Mummy would take my dieting seriously. About an hour later we head up the stairs to bed. I tell Tim about everything I saw at the bus stop; I’ve been dying to tell someone.

"Can you believe Andi has a boyfriend before me? She's nowhere near as pretty," then realising I sound a little conceited I add, "everyone says so." I’m shocked when Tim shoots me an angry look.

"You know," he says, "I don't think the real Chloe was like this." He sighs, unable to look at me. "At least, not all the time." With that he heads into his room closing the door without saying anything more. I’m left staring at the door, close to tears and not knowing what to do. What does he mean, not the 'real' Chloe? That damn headache is back. I’m going to have to keep my window open and hope the fresh air makes it go away.

I spend the next day in my bedroom listening to records. Tina thinks it’s funny that I don’t just use Spotify but there is something about them that calms me down. I can’t stop thinking about what Tim said. What does he mean by ‘not the real Chloe’? I bury my head in my pillow and cry. Why would he say something so hurtful? Does he have some sort of crush on Andi? I can’t stand the thought.

The day of the play is finally here. I can't believe it’s been over two months since we first auditioned. I peep out through the curtain, it doesn't take me long to spot them there. Tim is sitting by the aisle and Mummy’s next to him. Next to her is Lena, Mummy gave her the ticket after Daddy said he couldn't make it.

"You have to remember he's a good provider and needs to work late sometimes," Mummy admonished me after I kicked up a fuss.

The play goes well. I feel a golden glow all through it. I’m even better than Tina, and she is superb. I get a little cross at some of the others; the girl playing Nick fluffs a few of her lines. But all in all it’s a triumph. Mrs Travers brings us all out on the stage to take the final bow. After we have done this Mrs Travers hands both Tina and me bouquets of flowers. I catch Andi and Lotte on the side lines looking sour, which of course makes me feel even better.

The changing rooms are buzzing as we all get out of our dresses. I run my fingers along the soft fabric of my red cocktail dress as I hand it up. I wish I could keep it; perhaps Mummy can find me something similar? Tina comes up to me. She looks a little red faced seeing me in my underwear. She can be funny sometimes.

"That was great, you were fabulous," she gushes making me blush a little. I've always hated how prone I am to blushing. "Are you going to join us for a celebration afterwards?" her voice goes quiet, "Maisie Stuart says we can go over to hers, she has vodka!"

"Totally," I smile, "Meet me out the fire escape for a cig first?"

"Sure," Tina says happily, "Just give me ten to change."

The weather is a little cooler than during the week and I have to pull on a cardigan. We huddle close together as we drain every last bit out of our cigarettes. We gossip happily about the play and which girls we thought were rubbish and we’re warmed by our mutual respect.

"I can't believe how good you were!" I exclaim, hoping of course to get more flattery back in return.

"I know, we were amazing," she says. I would have preferred something specifically about myself but I'll take it.

"We’re the perfect doomed couple!" and I giggle at the thought. Tina comes closer; I try to back away but I'm pushed up against the safety bar along the side of the steps.

"I think so too," she says, and then, before I can figure out what’s going on, she lunges at me and plants a kiss on my lips.

"What the fuck?" I shout, my head starting to pound. "Why did you do that?"

"I, I, I thought you'd like it," Tina looks scared and vulnerable.

"What? I'm not gay!" and that terrible pounding starts in my head again. "Why would you think that?"

"Don't you dare tell the others," Tina says, her face screwed up and mean now. "They won't believe you, anyway." She pushes past me hurtling down the steps. Before she leaves she turns to me, "Everyone knows you told Andi you’re a lesbian. I'll say you came on to me."

"Fuck off you will!" I shout back.

"You practically did. Fluttering your eyes, flicking your hair. I know what you've been up to!" I stagger back a little; there’s real anger in her voice. My mouth is gaping open as she disappears into the evening. I thought she was my friend…

I spend the next hour in a daze. First Mrs Travers wants to show me off to a woman from an acting school in London. Normally I’d be thrilled but this damned headache won't go away. Then comes Mummy, Tim and Lena. Thankfully, Mummy is distracted by some of the other mums and leaves me alone but Tim and Lena just want to talk about the play.
Maisie comes up and asks shyly if I want to come to hers afterwards. I am relieved as this means Tina hasn't said anything - at least, not yet.

"You should go," Tim smiles, "I'll explain to Mum."

"Why don't you come as well?" Maisie asks Tim and her voice has a hungry edge to it.

"No, I don't want to cramp my sister's style," he says smoothly before turning and heading to the refreshments table.

"I'll come along afterwards," I reassure a crestfallen Maisie, "I just have to say hi to few people first." I’m glad when she leaves. My head’s still pounding and I don't want to be around people. Maybe I should go to the party and try and talk to Tina? Then I picture her angry face and decide I can't face her. I should ask Mummy for a lift home but for some reason I don't want to.

In the end I decide I need fresh air. It seems to be the only thing that helps me. I wander around the village in the evening light. The sky’s turning red and I remember the old rhyme about a red sky at night being a shepherd’s delight. We should be in for more good weather tomorrow.

Without realising it my feet have taken me to the old concrete bus shelter where I saw Andi kissing that boy two nights ago. I sit and put my head in my hands; I don't cry but I’m happy to let my hair fall across my face shielding me from the world. I’m not sure how long I’ve been there for but after a while I realise I’m not alone. I look up, a cascade of auburn hair blurring my view.

"Hello, who’s there?" I ask.

"Hello, Emma," says a woman's voice with a northern accent.

"My name's not Emma," I start but the temples of my forehead being to pound. I brush my hair out of my face. I see tall girl, perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old. She has short-ish hair with red streaks in it and high cheek bones. I try to stand but find myself wobbling on my feet.

"Hey Chloe, can we speak to Emma please?" the strange woman asks patiently.

"What, what do you mean?" I mutter, my speech slurring and the world spinning around me.

"It's me Emmy - Poppy," she smiles at me. I feel like I’ve been hit by a ton of bricks and I try to stagger away.

"You... you’re crazy. I don't know any Poppy," I say, feeling her name with my tongue as I say it, almost tasting it. Even in my fuzzy state it seems like it’s something very important. I try to move away but two hands grab me from behind.

"Sorry Em, but it is for your own good," says another northern voice.

"J-J-Jessie, is that you?" How do I know her name?

"Hold still,” says Jessie and I notice Billy the boy from the village coming up to me. Behind him I see Andi and Lotte.

"Get help!" I call out pointlessly - of course, they are in on this.

"Sorry about this Chloe, I mean Emma," Billy looks at Poppy who doesn't look happy but gives a resigned shrug. Finally Billy looks back to me and leans in.

"No!" I shriek, but to no avail. Why does this keep happening to me today? My head hurts and then everything turns to black.

When I come around I’m lying on a sofa in the living room of some house I don't recognise. A middle-aged woman I also don't recognise is standing over me.

"I think she's awake," the woman says to people I can't see. I’m startled when several faces suddenly appear. It takes me a while but I recognise Poppy, Billy, Jessie and Andi.
"How are you doing, Chloe?" asks Andi.

"Don't call me that," I say rubbing my head, it feels like I've had a big bang on the head, "My name’s Emma."

Everyone sighs with relief. "Welcome back, Emmy," Poppy says smiling broadly, "Do you remember much?"

I try to sit up but soon have to lie straight back down again. The middle-aged woman mutters something about getting a glass of water and disappears.

"I remember Lily finding Jessie in my bedroom," I groan.

"That was weeks ago, way over a month," Jessie says to Poppy, who nods.

"You don't remember anything else," Andi says. "The play, school, anything?"

"I remember being taken to see Doctor Fields, feeling drowsy the whole way." I try to force myself to think, "I remember some things, like the costumes, and..." I touch my lips, "being kissed." Billy looks a little sheepish. "It feels like I fell asleep when a film was on and parts of the film crept in my mind.” Suddenly something occurs to me and I leap up pointing at Poppy.

"You can't be here, they’ll have you sent to prison if they find out."

"They aren't going to find out," says Poppy. Her voice is soft and patient but it doesn't reassure me.

"What time is it? I have to get back." I look from face to face pleading for them to see sense. None of this will be worth it if they take Poppy.

"We have to get you out, and soon," says Jessie.

"It's true," Poppy says, "Jessie and Danielle checked," she nods at the middle-aged woman who has returned holding a glass of water which she gives to me. "They both work as cleaners at New Body so they checked the files. Fields thinks it will take between six and eight weeks for the Chloe programming to become completely dominant." I look at her as though she’s crazy.

"I don't care what happens to me!" I say, hating how childish my voice sounds.

"But I do," Poppy grabs me by the arms, for a moment I am frightened by the mad look in her eyes. "Don't you see, it’s been six weeks already. If you don't come with us we risk losing Emma and Mark forever," she says with great intensity.

"Perhaps Mark should have died all those months ago in that street in Shoreditch..." I can feel warm tears running down my cheeks.

"But not Emma!" Everyone’s looking at Poppy as she flails her arms around like a demented windmill. "You’re more than just a man trapped in a woman's body or the ghost of what some grieving couple think their daughter was like. You’re more than the sum of your parts - you’re a person."

I only realise I’m shaking when Jessie puts her arms around me. "It's true," she says hardly audible over my sobs, "you ain't the stuck up bitch I thought you were. You’re alright." She pauses, holding back her own waterworks. "And you don't have to do this alone."

The next few minutes pass quickly; I’m introduced to Danielle, the woman who employed Jessie. She tells me doesn’t think it’s right what they’re doing to me. Apparently Danielle’s going to drive us to the station in Milton Keynes.

"But won't they be watching the stations?" I ask perplexed; surely Lily and Edward will have called the police by now?

"They don't know you've gone yet," Andi says, "they think you’re still at Maisie's party."

"Also they’ll assume we'll be heading north," Poppy smiles and I look at her not understanding. "We’re going to head west." I just shake my head, still not getting it. "To Swansea and Greta." I start to protest that I don't want to bring anyone else in on this, but Poppy just shoves a bundle of clothes into my arms. "Shut up and get changed," she smiles. I look down at the dungarees and striped long sleeve t-shirt she’s given me.

"Okay," I say finally, making up my mind to do this. I look up at the others who are standing there staring at me. "Er, guys… can I have some privacy?" This breaks the spell and they all laugh before turning to leave. "Not you," I say ruefully to Poppy who looks a little sheepish. Once the others are through the door I turn to her. "Thank you," I whisper as we edge closer. My body tingles as she puts her hand on the back of my head to draw me in for a kiss. Has she got taller or have I shrunk a few inches?

"No distractions, just get dressed," she admonishes me.

"Awww," I say, hoping to keep her close for a while longer.

"Have you seen what you look like?" Poppy says with a smile, then hands me a compact mirror from her bag. I look at my face and then at my body. I can't believe the dumb lacy dress I am wearing. God, with pale pink tights as well.

"Wait," I stammer, "are those highlights in my hair?"

Poppy laughs at me, "Just get changed, Princess." After I'm in the dungarees and t-shirt Poppy hands me a baseball cap.

"I made this for my interview for the fashion course at South Manchester." I look at it; it reads 'Poppy's Girl" in light green writing.

"Really?" I ask.

"Well, they’ve offered me a place," she winks at me. There's so much I want to ask. GCSEs must be close, is it right that she's here with me instead of revising? Nothing comes out, however. I just fiddle with the hat for a while. Eventually I tie my hair into a ponytail and put the cap on.

"I'm proud to wear it," I say taking her hand. In the hallway Danielle, Jessie and Billy are waiting for me.

"We’d better be quick," says Danielle, "you don't want to miss the train and end up waiting around in the station for another hour." Poppy nods in agreement.

"Billy’s coming with us - apparently he has an effect on you." She doesn't sound too happy about it.

"I'm coming too," says Jessie and I notice she’s holding Billy's hand.

"Hey, that's jailbait," I say, gently mocking Jessie.

"Well, look who’s talking!" Jessie looks at both Poppy and me. "Anyway,” she says a little defensively, “I'm still fifteen till next month and Bill is fourteen so it doesn't matter too much." I smile and hug her. "Thank you for everything," then I turn to Billy, "And thank you too."

"Come on, Scooby Gang," Danielle says, "less of the emotions. We're not Americans!"

With that we get in the car. I get in the back followed by Billy because of the 'effect' he has on me. I catch Poppy and Jessie exchanging worried glances as he does. Billy’s followed by Poppy and then Jessie gets into the front. As we drive through dull looking suburban streets I take out Chloe's phone.

"Shit," I say, "there's a text from Lily." I read it out:

Lily: What time will you be home honey, do you want Edward to pick you up?

"Shit, shit, shit," I mumble. The text was sent nearly half an hour ago.

"Give it here," says Poppy. I do as I’m told and she types something into it. "We'll tell her you've gone over to Andi's," Poppy looks at me, "She’s been told to delay them as much as possible."

"We'll need to get rid of the phone, they’ll be able to track it," Danielle says from the front seat. Jessie takes it from Poppy.

"I'll get a ticket to London and then lose it somewhere," she tells us. We say goodbye on the station platform. I notice Billy and Jessie holding hands.

“Shut up!” says Jessie when she catches me looking, but I can see she’s smiling.

The train is fairly empty so Poppy and I have no trouble finding a place to sit. We’ve bought tickets to Birmingham New Street; from there we’ll get a train to Newport, then a bus to Swansea. Hopefully this way we’ll make it harder for them to track us.

The sun’s going down, bathing the English countryside in a red glow. I lean my head on Poppy’s shoulder feeling clearer, and happier, than I have in many months. Poppy strokes my hand then squeezes my fingers. Neither of us speaks; we don’t need to.

It is past midnight when our Megabus arrives in central Swansea. Greta is waiting for us. At first I don’t see her in the shadows as she is wearing black and grey but she comes into the light when we get closer.

We hug without saying anything, Greta squeezes me tight. She turns to Poppy and says, “The police have already called. They came over about two hours ago.”

“D’you think they suspect?” Poppy asks nervously.

“I told them Emma and I hardly know each other.” She smiles at me, “I think they bought the jealous daddy’s girl routine.”

“Are you sure they aren’t watching you?” Poppy asks.

“I drove around for a while before coming here. I didn’t see anyone following me. Julie says she has an unmarked police car parked outside the flat. I think they suspect you’ll make a break for Manchester.”

“That’s good news. Do you have it?” Poppy replies.

“Does she have what?” I look from Poppy to Greta. Greta pulls something that looks like a TV remote out of her handbag and points it at me. There’s a flash, everything goes blank, and then I’m back.

“What the hell was that?” I say, a little annoyed at being treated like an old DVD player. Greta smiles broadly.

“I just switched you to aeroplane mode.” She must see I’m still confused. “So they can’t track you like they did when you were kidnapped,” she explains. I got it from an IT expert in Birmingham. She works with the police sometimes so she knows her business. It’s actually a modified TV remote.” I’m a little shocked it hasn’t occurred to me before.

“Couldn’t they have been tracking me since we left?”

“It takes hours to scan an area the size of a county, what with all the noise from modems and mobile phones,” Greta says. “Hopefully you were out of the area before they started to look.”

I run my fingers through my newly cropped hair. It’s short again, and dyed silvery-blond. My roots are showing but Poppy calls it ‘punk’. Greta did it to help aid our escape. I can’t believe we’re leaving after less than twenty four hours.

I stand in front of Greta not knowing what to say. I want to thank her from the bottom of my heart, but I settle for a hug and a little sniffling. Poppy loads the larger rucksack on her back and grunts, “It’s time we got going.” She’s not been in a good mood as I’ve refused to sleep with her. I can’t put her in danger again.

“Where are we going?” I ask Poppy for the thousandth time. She just shakes her head and smiles to herself.

“I can’t tell you. It’s for your own protection.” She turns away; I let her have this little victory as a peace offering.

We take two small buses, firstly to Carmarthen and then on to Milford Haven. The sun is up over the sea and we sit in silence watching the calm water. Poppy holds my hand and I know the fight is over. I turn and smile at her. I am free, but it may not last long so I’m going to enjoy every moment. Poppy ruffles my hair.

“I guess I’m going to have to give in,” she whispers in my ear.

“What?”

“I’m fighting a losing battle,” I turn a little and see that she’s smiling, “you’re always going to be a bit of a tomboy.” She kisses me just behind the ear and right there, right then, I’d happily abandon my ‘no sex’ policy. I look around and see an elderly lady watching us while she pops pick-and-mix in her gob. What a way to kill the mood, lady.

At Milford Haven we have half an hour before the next bus to Aberystwyth. We buy bacon balms and sit in the bus shelter. A light rain is blowing from the Atlantic. We watch a pair of seagulls fighting over half a bag of chips, probably left over from last night.

The next bus is more crowded. Poppy says we should go to the top floor, where we’ll get a better view over the sea. There’s a group of boys, school kids, sitting up front who watch us closely as we head up the stairs and to the back. It’s strange to realise that there are people living their normal lives. I feel like we’re characters in a computer game who have wondered out of our normal zones of activity and I keep expecting a glitch to spring us back where we should be. The boys are loud and energetic, but thankfully they leave us alone. They’re throwing crisps at each other and play-wrestling.

“Come on, Pops, where are we going?” I ask, watching her looking out of the window.

“Fancy something to read?” she replies, changing the subject. I roll my eyes.

“Go on, then, what have you got?” I ask and she pulls out two graphic novels; she gives ‘Alice in Sunderland’ by Bryan Talbot to me and keeps ‘The Sandman’ by Neil Gaiman for herself. As the bus chugs along I feel my eyes getting drowsy. What with everything I haven’t slept properly since Oxfordshire. Poppy has to nudge me to stop me falling out of my chair asleep. I smile at her and try to right myself but as soon as I do I feel my eyelids going again.

“Mark, Mark, can you hear me?” It’s a woman’s voice, one I recognise but can’t place; somewhere in the background I can hear other voices, “Mark, stay with us. Don’t go.”
I sit up with a bolt realising that I’ve been resting my head on Poppy’s shoulder. “Did you hear someone,” I say groggily. She just looks at me and shakes her head.

From Aberystwyth we head to Caernarfon and then on to Bangor. By now we’ve covered the whole of Cardigan Bay, always taking small local services. In Bangor we wait for the ferry to take us across the water to Anglesey. I am nervous as we wait on the walkway. We watch two men talking as the ferry pulls in to dock. There is a loud bang as the ferry and the walkway meet, then another one as they start to let the cars on board.

We watch the tops of the cars from above. Yet more people living their lives, blissfully unaware of the crazy shit going on in mine. I glance up at the two workmen, praying they let us on quickly. In my mind I imagine police jumping out at any minute. On the buses I felt safe, hidden in the ordinariness of everything. I couldn’t imagine a SWAT team jumping out from behind the woman with the Aldi shopping bags. Here however it feels unreal, transient: the perfect place for an ambush.

“Ever been to Anglesey before?” Poppy asks.

“In the last year of primary school. All the schools in the area organised a getaway for the kids about to graduate to secondary school. Kind of an icebreaker. It was at some adventure awayday centre,” I shrug. “It rained. A lot.”

“Hey, I went to that. I wonder if we were there at the same time,” she says excitedly. “Oh,” she adds as she realises, “Sorry. I forgot. It wasn’t even the same decade.”

“Shall we go outside?” I suggest, wanting to change the subject. The salt and the cold air fills my nostrils and we lean against the railing. On the horizon I can see a blue light pulsing. “What do you think that is?” I ask.

“What?” Poppy looks at me.

“The blue light. Is it a beacon, or a ship or something?” I look at her, the wind’s blowing the fringe of her hair into her face. Again I’m ready to chuck away the damned ‘no sex’ policy.

“I don’t see anything,” she says. I look back and the light has gone.

“It must have been a ship that’s moved away.” Poppy turns and says she wants to go back inside. I look back at the sea for one last time but the blue light hasn’t come back. “Funny, I thought I could hear a siren,” I mutter, mostly to myself.

I get a surprise as we walk off the ferry. A pleasant one. Standing there are Esse, Peter, Paddy and Tony. Standing behind them is Noah with some girl I don’t recognise.

“What!” I exclaim, I turn to Poppy and punch her playfully on the arm. “You cow,” I say, but I’m laughing.

“Is this ok?” Poppy is nervous.

“Of course!” I grab her hand, kiss her cheek and start dragging her towards the group. Within minutes I’m covered in hugs and hellos. Esse half lifts me up off the ground. I notice she and Peter are standing very close together.

Noah drives us in a rented VW van - a proper ‘Scooby Gang’. Esse talks excitedly about where we will be staying.

“It’s a cabin Noah’s dad owns, it is sooo cool!” she states,looking around the van. “We’re on a study break.” I smile as she goes through all the gossip from school and the band. Study leave? Of course they wont be going back to school until they take their GCSEs now. I feel oddly disconnected. Their lives are continuing, but what will happen to me? Will I still be going to school as Chloe when they’re all off at university?

It hits me that this could be the last time I get to be Emma and keep something of Mark alive. No doubt they will catch me, and when they do they’ll make sure Chloe takes over completely. There’s only one thing for it -party!

The cabin is located on a small, run down holiday park near the sea. The park is mostly dark, it being the off-season. In the distance I can see lights on the ocean. Ships travelling between Liverpool and Dublin perhaps? I keep an eye out for the blue light but it doesn’t reappear.

Noah takes my rucksack and introduces me to his girlfriend Christina. She seems nice, looking sporty in her rugby top. The booze flows freely and the music is loud. I’m glad the park is empty or we’d have the police down on us. Esse, Poppy and me hug as we sing along to Tom Waits.

“When I see the 5 o'clock news
I don't wanna grow up,”
We shout every second line.
“Comb their hair and shine their shoes
I don't wanna grow up
Stay around in my old hometown
I don't wanna put no money down
I don't wanna get me a big old loan
Work them fingers to the bone
I don't wanna float a broom
Fall in love and get married then boom
How the hell did it get here so soon
I don't wanna grow up”

We hold our drinks up in the air as we sing the last line, everyone joining in. After it finishes Esse and Peter pour over the iphone deciding on the next track. In the distance I hear what sounds like a police siren.

“Hey, did anyone else hear that?” I ask, my heart in my mouth.

“Hear what?” asks Paddy, glugging on a can of Red Stripe.

“I thought I heard a police car,” I say, feeling Poppy put her hand in mine. I look around; all the others shake their heads.

“It was probably on the main road. It must have passed by now,” Noah reassures me.

“Yeah sure,” I say trying to calm down. Poppy puts her arm around me and the party starts again.

“Hey someone get this girl a drink,” Poppy says and the tension in the room dissolves. Tony hands me a vodka and coke and I drink it down in one go. Once I’m finished Paddy hands me a Red Stripe. A few drinks later and the room’s getting fuzzy. I can hear Poppy and Esse laughing about something. Esse says something to me but I don’t understand. I need to get to the toilet, and quick. I get up off the couch and lurch forward but the room takes a spin and I fall over. I can hear everyone talking at me but I can’t focus on their voices. It is all turning to static. Everything goes black, and then everything goes white.

“Hello Mark – my, how you’ve changed.” It’s the same voice as the one I heard on the bus earlier. I’m lying on a white floor in a completely white room. The woman speaking to me kneels down so her face is in front of mine.

“Carly?” I stammer at the woman I was with the night I was shot. “Is that you?”

“Yes Mark, it’s me,” she says in her friendly South London accent. She smiles warmly at me as I pull myself up.

“It’s been a long time,” I say rubbing the back of my head. I realise I’m wearing some sort of white surgical gown. My body looks even smaller and more fragile in it. How long had I been here, and anyway, where is here?

“What are you doing here, Carly?” I ask. I run my hands down my body checking it is all there. Am I wearing anything under this gown?

“Well, you see, Mark, I’m being paid a hell of a lot to be here.” She smiles; her smile isn’t an unkind one.

“Paid by whom?” My head is spinning. “To do what?”

“Why, to welcome you to Palo Alto, of course.” The room seems to be glowing then my vision blurs and it is all over.

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

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

Part 10

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that?” I ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you know who you are, Emma?”

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

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

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

“You, Emma, are the birth of AI.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just who the hell is your dad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The scene fades to black.