Consequences: A New Life Part 4

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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.”

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Comments

Re: Part 4

Cressar's picture

As good as ever, Lizzy.

Radio Cressar - not available on FM

wow, kidnapped !

and her former body was killed?

oh crap ...

DogSig.png

This was good

Possibly my favourite chapter of the lot. After the turmoil of the kidnapping and subsequent end of mark, everyone is being much more understanding of emma's situation - even and especially julia.

I'm glad to see she's got a spark for life :3

Xx
Amy

Well Done

Lizzy

Finally caught up with this story

Well done on another excellent chapter now you have me hooked on the story

Looking forward to reading and sharing comments on the next chapters

Love

SamanthaAnn

forgot to add

Lizzy

Forgot to add in my previous comment

Now that Emma has been kidnapped and Marks body has been killed off, and
more than a few people now are aware that Emma really is Mark

Getting more difficult to keep the secret

going to be interesting where you take us on this journey for all involved

SamanthaAnn

Excellent story

Very well done, although I will admit that I struggled through some of the local and youth slangs (like references to bands I've never heard of at all)

I can see this could very well be the start of a whole new universe - the idea of "synthetic bodies" and the downloading of the personality to them promises to be quite an interesting basis to a story universe.

I will admit that towards the end I started to feel an almost genuine hatred/dislike for Julia for her mistreatment of her husband/Emma and her lack of empathy towards what Emma was going through. Then she had the audacity to screw around on Mark RIGHT in front of Emma's eyes (yeah Identities are getting confusing here for me too lol)

Any writer who can impress such emotions upon the reader possesses a true gift, and you have definitely done that!) :)

A whole new universe

Thanks Foxxe, I am glad you are enjoying the story.

It is interesting how strong the reactions have been to Julia. With some who want Mark/Emma to get back with her in the end and others, like yourself, who dislike her. I wont say what is going to happen but it is nice to know my characters have such an effect.

If there are any writers who want to expand my little universe I'd be up for that. Just let me know?

Julia

Cressar's picture

I think Julia's had something of a bad press; Mark (as Emma) accepts that the marriage was in trouble and it was mostly his doing; whilst he hadn't been unfaithful as such, he seemed to spend far more time working and then socialising with colleagues than he did on his marriage. It's clear that Julia still has real love for him / her; it seems to have evolved into a maternal love. I felt Richard was, at times, less than entirely upright but it transpires (thus far, anyway) that he's not such a bad sort. As Foxxe so rightly states, getting readers to feel strongly about fictional characters is true testament to a writer's talents and Lizzy is very talented indeed.

Radio Cressar - not available on FM

Through the mill

Podracer's picture

It was a bit worrying when Julia found out about Emma's possible susceptibility to command, especially as she wasn't best pleased with the "daughter". It seems to have come to nought though, and now the new girl has landed on her feet a bit. Or at least fairly upright.

"Reach for the sun."

Emma for life

Lizzy Bennett took an axe and gave Emma's father 40 whacks, and when that job was done, Emma called Julia MOM.
I never was really good at poetry, better at puns,sorry !