by S M Stuart
“And you look like you still haven’t managed to work out what to do with a comb!”
A brief expression of confusion crossed Seth’s face. His unruly hair was often a source of fun between us but this time he heard anger in my tone. He struggled to smooth his curls down with his hands and then studied the passing landscape rather than trying to find out what was wrong.
Typical!
“Hey! I’m gonna hurl. Open the frikkin’ door will ya?” A muscular, dishevelled man was banging on the driver’s screen trying to make her engage the override button. The hurler was obviously trying to skip his fare but ‘Maddie’ wasn’t having any of it.
“Sir there are labelled bio-waste bags in the seat pockets if you are feeling unwell,” she said via her intercom. “I suggest you return to your seat until the designated stop. I can request a medic to meet us there if you need assistance?” She turned her dainty head and stared the fare-hopper down.
“Frikkin’ Holo-Bots!” he muttered as he shuffled back to his seat.
For a few moments there, I’d almost smiled at the comic situation but it wasn’t so easy to switch on the happy me. Seth glanced at me to see if my mood was thawing and I recognised his disappointment as he quickly turned back to the window. The rest of the journey passed without further entertainment from ‘Mr Hurler’ and his wrist-chip must’ve had enough credit `cos he stepped off the tram at our stop without any problems. Maybe the two security officers who happened to be near the Mall-Stop might’ve had something to do with his suddenly improved behaviour.
We entered the shopping centre and Seth automatically reached out to hold my bag as I struggled to pull on my jumper. He tried to start our conversation again.
“Can I treat you to a coffee or something? Our own small celebration for your birthday? I know your family have plans for later.”
A refusal was on the tip of my tongue. I was still angry with him for his disappearance last night but my conscience was pricking me. Maybe I should give him chance to explain.
“Okay,” I replied. “Make it tea and a muffin and you’re on.”
His face lit up with a smile and I felt like crying again. When he got to the table with the snacks I was back in control.
“One blueberry muffin – healthy, low-fat variety – and tea for madam. Hot chocolate with whipped cream and a nutty choc-chip cookie pour moi!” He set the tray down. He must’ve had this planned as there was a single burning candle pushed into the top of the muffin. “Happy birthday!”
“Thank you,” I said, sarcastically, drooling at sight of the choc-loaded cookie. He’s tormenting me, knowing that I’m trying to keep off the chocolate!
After a few moments of thoughtful chewing on his cookie and slurping through the mound of whipped cream he asked the inevitable.
“What’s the matter, Dez? Come on, tell me.”
My throat closed and my eyes filled. I started to shake as I tried to contain my sobs.
“Dez!” Seth became alarmed. “Dez what is it?”
“I… it… didn’t… it didn’t… where were you?” I managed between gulps.
“Sorry?”
“Where were you at midnight? I looked for you and you were gone.”
“It’s a time for family. I wanted you to savour the moment.”
“N-no! You know better than that. I was at your party. I was there at midnight to share it with you. Why was it different for you at mine?”
Seth seemed to deflate. He started to pick at the remains of his cookie.
“Look, I know your mum isn’t keen on me being around. I just didn’t want to cause any more friction between you. Especially at such an important time for you.”
“S’not good enough, Seth.” I sniffed and tried to look as though that was all there was to it.
“Sorry, Dez. I really didn’t think you’d notice. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know I wouldn’t want that.”
He put his arm around my shoulder and gave me a squeeze. The feelings of warmth and comfort that his hugs usually brought didn’t happen. I shrugged him off and kept my mug of tea in front of my face to hide the disappointment.
“Tell me what to do to put it right,” he said.
“I don’t know!” I knew I was sulking but I couldn’t help it. If I didn’t have the nerve to tell my best friend what had happened, how the hell was I going to tell the ’rents? I grabbed my bag and tried to redeem myself.
“For a start, you can help me fritter some of my birthday credits.”
We spent the best part of the day idly meandering around the shops but I didn’t buy much. My heart wasn’t in it. As we sat on the ecotram home, I tried a different approach hoping that I could trick myself into sharing my problem.
“You’ve never said what your PT’s like? Hasn’t your Bloc unlocked yet?” I asked.
Seth’s face went momentarily blank, like a film on pause. Was he asking his PT if he could tell me about them?
I pressed on, “I haven’t asked before ‘cos I thought you’d let me know all about them but you’ve been pretty tight since your party. So, is it ’cos their Bloc won’t let you?”
“No. Er, no. It’s nothing like that,” he stammered. “It’s just … it’s difficult, you know? We’re best mates, aren’t we? Don’t you think it’s strange to have someone else connected to us in a way that we can’t be with each other?”
“Yeah, I suppose so,” I replied. But I felt short-changed – he hadn’t really answered me and now he was hinting that our PTs might come between us, affecting our friendship in ways I hadn’t even considered.
At least he’s got a bloody PT to share his feelings with!
CHAPTER 5
Ellingham: 25 July 2110
I’m really not in the mood for a damned tea-party!
“S’only me,” I called, as I opened the front door and tried to head straight upstairs to my room.
“Just a minute,” said Mum from the kitchen door. “Aren’t you going to show us what you’ve bought?”
“Thought you’d want me to get changed for the tea-party.”
“We’ve got time yet. Come on, let me see what you’ve spent all your credits on.”
“Really, Mum, there’s nothing exciting. Just a couple of bangles and a t-shirt from ‘Q-Tees’.”
“Let her be, love,” soothed Dad, noticing Mum’s cheeks colouring up as she started to lose patience. “She wants to get ready and Jen will be here soon. Come and have a cup of tea before you start charging around after everyone else.” He steered her back into the kitchen and winked at me over his shoulder.
I wasn’t sure how I was going to cope with another social gathering even if it was going to be just family. Under normal circumstances Aunt Jennifer was a bit of a laugh. She was Dad’s younger sister and had been in the same year as Mum at university. Can’t imagine how they ended up as best buddies. Mum so old-fashioned, prim and proper and Aunt Jennifer (or Jen as she now insisted on being called) liberal and down-to-earth. Their friendship cooled briefly when Jen got pregnant and refused to tell anyone who the father was. She said that she was “more than capable of bringing up the sprog alone and not going to force a relationship onto a man who wasn’t interested in being a father anyway!” The result was Jeremy.
Jeremy was fourteen; a bit of a tear-away and cocky enough to wind up his Aunt Celeste at every given opportunity. He didn’t exactly endear himself when he introduced his mother’s latest partner: “Dick – as in head!” Mum nearly choked, shocked at her nephew’s offensive attitude. Poor Dick just shrugged and gratefully accepted a large whisky from Dad. Jeremy had caught my eye and I’d struggled to keep my mouthful of orange juice from gushing down my nose. He was okay in small doses, I suppose.
I sat on my bed with my eyes closed concentrating like mad. It felt as though I was chasing oxygen in thin air. I knew it had to be there and it was doable but how could I get at it? My head began to ache again as my brows scrunched and my jaw clenched, so I forced myself to relax. Ma
ybe that was my problem, I was trying too hard. It was like that word on the tip of your tongue – it won’t come if you keep thinking about it but as soon as you stop worrying it pops into your head.
So I’ll just stop worrying and it’ll suddenly be there without me even noticing!
I took a deep breath, went to the bathroom to wash my face then changed into my new t-shirt so that Mum could enjoy complaining about the slogan: “Kiss My A**” – even though the cartoon of a donkey beneath showed it was a completely innocent request! Anyway, it’d make her feel better about earlier if she could have a good old tut at me.
By the time I got downstairs Jen, Dick and Jeremy had arrived. I could see from the scowl on Jeremy’s face that he’d had alternative plans for the evening but he brightened up when he caught sight of my t-shirt. He was anticipating the inevitable barney.
“How’s the hangover, Dez?” Jen grinned as she gave me a hug, hiding the ambiguous slogan for the moment. “You wicked child,” she chuckled into my ear.
“Nothing a hair of the dog won’t cure,” I replied, looking expectantly at Dad.
“Not a chance!” He handed me a non-alcoholic fruit punch. “You know the law, young lady. Leniency for your Sixteenth but until you are eighteen, limited rations!”
Dad was right to keep me off the booze – it would’ve made me even more belligerent in my current emotional state. And the headache was still hovering so fruit punch was probably all I could stomach anyway.
“Desirée!” Mum wailed.
Oh yeah, forgot about my t-shirt for a minute.
“What on earth possessed you to buy that… that… crude top?” Mum struggled to find the right description.
“What’s wrong with kissing a donkey?” asked Jeremy in his most innocent voice. “Mum snogs her horses all the time!”
He earned himself a light-hearted slap from his mother.
Dad’s eyes rolled to the ceiling. It was going to be one of those evenings! He put on his best diplomatic face and asked Mum if she needed any help in the kitchen. Well manoeuvred Dad! She hurried away to stop him messing things up.
“You are such a naughty girl,” he said to me, smiling and shaking his head as he went after Mum.
“You look exhausted, Dez,” said Jen. “Having trouble sleeping with someone else?” She winked.
“Really, Aunt Jennifer!”
“Jen!”
“Okay – Jen. But tell me, how on earth did you and Mum ever find anything in common?”
“Can’t imagine what you mean.” Jen stuck out her bottom lip and raised her eyebrows in mock surprise.
“Come on. How did you two end up as best friends? Mum’s so up her own … donkey,” I whispered.
“She wasn’t always like that!” Jen seemed to be going into adult mode but at least she was off the subject of my PT.
“Sorry. I take it back. But it’s so frustrating sometimes. I can’t do anything right. I’m a huge disappointment to her. All I do is annoy her. I wonder why she tried so hard to have me in the first place!”
The sudden silence alerted me. I turned to see Mum framed in the kitchen doorway holding a plate of smoked salmon mousse, Dad behind her with the curly French toast that always breaks before you can spread anything on it.
Her face was ashen, her lips pressed tightly together in a thin ragged line.
“That looks delicious, Celeste.” Dick, bless him, rose to the challenge. He stepped forward to relieve her of the plate so that she could duck back into the kitchen for the sliced lemon, giving her the chance to regain her composure.
I felt like a prize bitch! What was going on with me? I know teenage girls and their mothers often squabble but this was ridiculous. I didn’t mean to be hurtful or rude. I just didn’t have a talent for tact. I went into the kitchen and reached out to touch Mum’s shoulder. My stomach churned with guilt – she was shaking under my hand.
“Sorry, Mum.”
She turned to me, her face a twisted mix of emotions. She looked distraught; angry; resigned and despairing all at once.
“¡Yo no sé lo que usted desea de mí más!” The strange, furious words flew at me.
“Pardon?” I was worried. What was that gibberish? Had I tipped her over into a nervous breakdown? I turned to call Dad into the kitchen but she reached out and clutched my arms tightly.
“I don’t know what you want from me any more,” she gulped. “I try my best to provide you with a secure and loving home. But it’s never enough for you. No,” she said and held up her hand as I opened my mouth to deny her accusations. “I will not discuss this whilst we have visitors. Please take these through.” Uncannily calm now, she handed me the saucer of sliced lemon and a pepper mill. She turned me around towards the door, shooing me out as though I was a little girl getting under her feet in the kitchen.
I was unnerved. What happens now? I thought. Am I supposed to carry on regardless after that?
Strange as it may seem the evening did pass in a relatively normal fashion. The food was, as always, excellent – although I couldn’t taste it for the acid guilt in my mouth. The conversation seemed reasonably relaxed and Jeremy managed to keep on the right side of everyone for once. Had nobody else heard Mum’s outburst? Maybe they thought that ignoring both that and my dreadful faux pas would mean that neither had really happened.
As they were leaving, Jen hugged me close once more and whispered, “Take it easy, Dez. Your mum really does love you, even if it sometimes feels otherwise. You’re practically an adult now and she’s scared of losing you. Call me if you need to talk.” She kissed my cheek and hurried out into the night after Jeremy and Dick.
“Celeste, why don’t you go up to bed? Dez and I will finish the tidying up. Go on, go get some rest.”
Mum didn’t seem to have the energy to protest. I watched her shoulders droop as she wearily climbed the stairs and I silently began to cry.
“Come on, sweetheart.” Dad pulled me into his embrace and guided me into the kitchen.
I sat at the table while he made some hot chocolate the old-fashioned way – with hot milk, real cocoa, sugar and cinnamon. He’d forgotten my chocolate embargo too, but it didn’t seem to matter any more.
“You don’t need to say anything,” he said, quietly. “I know there’s something going on, but you don’t have to tell me anything if you can’t face it.”
Even in speech Dad didn’t often use abbreviations and it sounded strange when he did. That was when we knew he was struggling with his own emotions. I felt awful for putting him in this situation. He always tried to avoid getting in the middle of a fight between Mum and me. His diplomatic training didn’t equip him to deal with domestic war-zones but he’d always do his best to bring his girls back together again.
“You know we’re here for you, no matter what. Don’t you?” he continued. “We all get carried away sometimes. Seth is a dependable young man. I’m sure you’ll work it out between you.”
Omigod! He thinks I’m pregnant!
CHAPTER 6
London: January 2060
“Are you sure?” Matt asked. “We can always dodge out early if you’re feeling tired.”
“My dear boy,” Julia answered. “I may be eighty-six but I’m not ready to become a party-pooper yet. Go and dance with Laura. The poor girl looks like she could do with rescuing.” She nodded towards her grandson’s wife who was glaring wide-eyed in their direction. By her side a small rotund, slightly balding man was chatting animatedly but from Laura’s expression his enthusiasm for the subject was certainly not catching. As Matt walked towards her, Laura’s features softened with relief and Julia smiled contentedly. She’d been worried during Matt’s transition period but he’d finally accepted the connection to his Psyche-Twin, as they were now called. The sadness of his mother’s unexpected death ten years previously had been tempered by the support of his PT and the joy of his twin children. They and Laura were the loves of his life. Any tinge of jealousy that Matt was no longer hers alone wa
s quickly overruled by Julia’s pride in her little family.
“A splendid occasion, Baroness Simpson.”
Her smile became fixed and cold as she recognised the voice but good manners forbade her to ignore the man.
“Good evening Benjamin. Yes. It’s a wonderful event. An apt beginning to the Year of Telepathic Twinning.”
“Full blown telepathy in two generations! Who would have guessed the ravages of war and disease could trigger such an advance?”
“Who indeed,” Julia replied with just a hint of sarcasm. “However, not quite full blown, Benjamin. Merely a single connection with one’s Psyche-Twin, I believe. Although, that is enough to cope with as we‘ve seen. Well, some of us…”
“Ah yes. I heard you’d lost your son to the transition. Tragic. Tragic.” Trevalyn shook his head slowly but Julia was unable to accept the sympathetic gesture.
“Most families have suffered tragedy over the last forty years. However, yours seems to have managed a charmed existence. Tell me, Benjamin, what’s your secret?” She looked intently into the face of the man she believed somehow responsible for her husband’s death. A slight tightening of the skin around his eyes betrayed his anger at the barbed question but he quickly recovered his composure.
“If I knew that, my dear Julia, I could bottle it and make a fortune.”
To add to the one you’ve already amassed, she thought.
CHAPTER 7
Ellingham: 26-28 July 2110
Being pregnant would be easier than being a freak!
Well that’s what I thought at the time. I would’ve gladly had triplets rather than face up to what had – or rather, hadn’t – happened. That late night conversation with Dad did give me some breathing space. Although I hadn’t responded to his obvious suspicions, he didn’t hassle me for an answer and he kept Mum at a distance, soothing her with his ‘everything will be fine’ routine.