Strange Noises Fiction by Rachel Greenham

“Hi—”

“Aah!”

Valerie literally jumped a little way and twisted, landing with her back to the doorframe ready to push off.

Mary. No threat.

“Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Just got to metabolise this adrenaline.

It was a little after three, and the end of Valerie’s classes for Fridays. It was still a little strange how they didn’t ring a bell or otherwise mark the time classes should start or end, and it had overrun by a few minutes.

“We were going to talk about the project, remember?” Mary offered. “Look, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that.”

Joke. “That’s all right,” Valerie squeezed out, “I needed to wake up anyway.” You shouldn’t have been able to sneak up on me like that.

“Oh thank God, I wasn’t the only one bored out of my skull in there!” That wasn’t what I meant. Valerie just smiled, as if in agreement. “Baroque must have been invented to torment us.” Valerie’s smile turned real for a moment.

“Actually I think I’m getting it,” Valerie admitted. It made conversation. “It’s clean, like Math.”

“Listen, we’re running late and I’ve got to go and get the sprog. Have you got another lesson today?”

Valerie shook her head. “No. Just going home.” She was mystified as to what a ‘sprog’ might be.

“I’m going that way,” Mary pointed one direction down the corridor. “Where are you going?”

Valerie paused, then pointed in the same direction, choosing honesty. That way was her locker and the side entrance that led out into the student car park.

“We can talk going then.” She started off, obliging Valerie to keep with her. “Okay, look, I admit it’s not much of an idea, I’ve just got a few phrases in my head, but I reckon that’s probably just as well. Last thing you want is someone coming to the project with a complete score. Again.”

The talk progressed strictly about music. Valerie tried to keep her attention on what Mary was saying as they walked down the busy corridor. It made her nervous, so she was at once glad of the distraction and trying to not let it distract her from her vigilance. Mary seemed completely oblivious to her nervousness as she talked.

“Anyway, what do you think?” Valerie opened her mouth ready to speak. “Sorry, I’m going on and on here. I’m sure you didn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!” Valerie responded. It was a conditioned reflex.

“Our chief weapon is surprise!” Mary lobbed back. She actually knows it! Valerie thought. She guessed Mary might be thinking the same thing.

“Surprise… and fear!”

“Fear and surprise!”

“And ruthless efficiency!”

Mary laughed. “Et cetera. Oh, I’m glad we got that out of the way. Aidan was betting you wouldn’t have a sense of humour.”

“What, ‘cause I’m American?” Valerie hadn’t attempted to hide her accent at college. Keeping that up with the concentration she needed in class would just have been asking for trouble.

“If I said yes, would you be terribly offended?”

“I might have to launch a pre-emptive air strike.” Dry.

Mary processed that for a moment, then started grinning. “Okay,” she chuckled, “this is my stop. Look, all I’ve done is talk at you so far.” Fine by me. Valerie looked around her, found they were outside the college crèche and playgroup.

“You’ve got a kid?” Valerie said aloud, startled.

“Oh, didn’t I say?” She opened the door to go in.

“You said you had a sprog,” Valerie commented. “I didn’t know what-“

A small child broke away from the pack and ran to meet Mary. “There you are!” Mary exclaimed, and picked her up. “My little sproglet.” She straightened, the little girl finding a familiar position astride her mother’s hip. “Not so little any more,” she muttered. “Lizbeth, say hello to Valerie.” Elizabeth just stared, one hand clinging to Mary’s cardigan.

“Hello Elizabeth,” Valerie tried, and smiled. The child was practically a miniature of her mother, such that Valerie briefly wondered if someone had got human cloning working in this timeline.

“Mummy are we going to the cough shop?” The playgroup supervisor came over with Elizabeth’s things.

“Was she okay?” Mary asked.

“Fine, weren’t you Lizbeth? You did some painting, didn’t you?”

Elizabeth nodded, then was occupied for a moment by Mary putting her down to get her coat on. Valerie got down to her level. “What did you paint?”

“I painted… A flower and a… lephant.”

“An elephant?” Mary asked.

“Did you make a big mess?” Valerie asked. Elizabeth grinned.

“I could have told you that,” Mary commented. “These aren’t the clothes she had on this morning.”

“Ah.”

Elizabeth was in blue jeans and a bright yellow sweater with one of the Tellytubbies on the front. The red one. Po, she dredged up from the zeitgeist.

“Mummy are we going to the cough shop?”

“One track mind,” Mary muttered. The supervisor had disappeared, to settle some dispute that had bubbled up on the far side of the room. “Well, we could. Do you have to go back straight away?” she asked Valerie. “We could go and get a cup of coffee?”

“I, um…” She had to get back. Back to whatever it was Jane had planned. Back to do the pretty thing. She sighed. Elizabeth was staring at her again, with the look of someone who was figuring out that Valerie could swing the vote.

“Well? Are you coming?” she demanded of Valerie. Bossy little child.

“Now now, dear, that’s no way to ask,” Mary told her. “And anyway, how do I know you’re going to be good, hmm? The coffee-shop’s a grown-up place. Remember last time we had to come back and sit in the studio because you were naughty?”

“I promise!”

“Yes, but will you remember, eh?” She tousled her daughter’s hair affectionately.

Valerie had an idea and slid her backpack off to dig around inside. She made a show of it, so Elizabeth would get interested. Finally she brought it out.

“Do you know what this is?” She showed Elizabeth the red marker pen she’d retrieved.

“Pen!”

“Oh, but this isn’t an ordinary pen. This is a special pen. This is my special Promise Keeper pen.” She now had Elizabeth’s undivided attention. “Come here and stick out your hand.” Elizabeth moved towards her, intrigued. “See, what you do is this. When you make a promise, and you really really want to keep it, you put a mark on your hand like this, stick out your hand,” she said again. Elizabeth complied, and Valerie popped the cap and drew a small red spot on the back of her hand. “Then you put another mark on the person you’re making the promise to. Mary?” Mary had caught on and came up. “Here,” Valerie handed the pen to Elizabeth. “You do it. Just a little dot, like that one.” Mary stood still while Elizabeth carefully drew a spot on her hand. “There,” Valerie said when it was done. Elizabeth handed her the pen back without being asked and before – miraculously – she’d been able to get any of it on her clothes. “Now, the promise is sealed, and if you forget, or you want to do something naughty, all you have to do is look at it and it’ll help you keep your promise.”

Elizabeth just watched her while she put the pen away and zipped up her backpack.

“So you are coming then?” Elizabeth queried, and gave Mary a huge self-satisfied grin. Mary chuckled.

“She has you there.”

Outflanked by a child, a— “How old is she anyway?” she asked Mary.

“Four.” Elizabeth reported.

“It’s all right, she does this to everyone. And I know where she gets it from, too,” she added darkly. “Do you really want to come? You don’t have to…”

“Where is it?”

“Oh, it’s not far. Out of the college gates, turn left, then it’s on the right, on the high street. It’s not a Starbucks.”

Until the day before, Valerie had been driven right past it twice a day. She thought she knew the place Mary meant. “It’s got a piano?”

“That’s the one. In fact I play there sometimes.” She shrugged. “It’s a little extra money.”

“Okay.”

---

It was a good time to get to the coffee-shop. Judging by the décor it was mostly frequented by students anyway, but it was too early for most of them, and certainly too early for the office-drones. Elizabeth scampered straight to the table in the window with two big comfortable old sofas. “No! Not the comfy chair!” Valerie imagined Mike yelling. She couldn’t help but smile.

Elizabeth clambered up onto the sofa immediately in front of the window and looked out. “Bus!” There was the grand piano near the centre of the room. Valerie caught one of the baristas waving to Mary and figured this was a regular hangout. They sat on either side of Elizabeth. She was giving a running commentary on something, but it was presumably in her own language, as Valerie could not understand a word of it. The barista came over.

“Hi, Mary. What can I get you?”

“Oh, hi Jill. Just a filter for me, and an orange juice for little one?”

“Okay.”

“Valerie?”

Valerie longed for caffeine, but thought better of it. “Actually, do you have any smoothies?”

“Yes we do. We have strawberry, coconut, banana, um, peach…”

“Could I have a strawberry smoothie?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“‘Spresso!” interjected Elizabeth.

“Oh you are so not getting an espresso,” Mary admonished her, and to Valerie, “she likes the sound the machine makes.” Jill beat a retreat. Elizabeth started imitating the sound. “Who always orders espresso?” Mary asked, a transparent ploy to get her daughter to make some other sound.

“Jo!”

“Yes! Now, are you going to sit quietly, like you promised?”

Elizabeth nodded, but she soon turned around and knelt on the sofa so she could look out of the window again.

“So, where did you get her?” Valerie started.

“Oh, there’s this lovely little place down next to the market,” Mary replied, catching on quickly. She turned towards Valerie, making herself comfortable, one knee brought up onto the sofa, her elbow on the back. “I was fifteen and a total idiot with the first boy that came along.”

“Jeez…” Valerie had almost forgotten that sort of thing still happened.

“I got better. Believe me, I do not need the lecture.” She leaned towards Valerie slightly and lowered her voice. “You won’t tell anyone I’m a mature student, will you?”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Valerie chuckled.

“Good. I think Aidan’s starting to guess.” She lowered her voice even further. “His maths isn’t very good.”

“Which one’s Aidan?” She kept the whisper going.

“The pretty one.”

Valerie knew exactly which one she meant. “Right. I’m with you.”

“So anyway, yes,” Mary continued in a more normal voice, “luckily my parents have been stars, or we’d probably be stuck in some horrible bedsit by now. But they’ve got their own careers and I don’t really want Lizbeth being brought up completely by her grandparents anyway; and then I found this place had its own playgroup, and she was getting old enough that I could leave her here, so I was able to pick up where I’d left off, if you see what I mean.”

“I guess.”

Mary shrugged. “She’s starting proper school in the autumn anyway, just down the road. It should be easier then.” She sighed wearily.

“So, you decided to keep her,” Valerie continued. Keep asking questions and being a good listener, and you won’t have to answer so many. “Did you have the choice?”

“Oh yes, I had the choice.” She rolled her eyes. “God knows how many times I was reminded I had the choice. Isn’t it funny how when people are telling you you have a choice it’s really because they want you to choose what they want. Have you ever found that?”

“Oh yes.” Valerie nodded.

“It was my choice.” She stroked Elizabeth’s hair briefly. Elizabeth was talking quietly to herself. Valerie couldn’t make out any of the words. “Who are you talking to, love?”

“Abbie.”

Mary smiled back at Valerie’s confused look. “Abbie’s her ‘little friend,’” she explained. “So what have you been talking about?” she addressed her daughter.

Elizabeth fidgeted. “Things.”

“Have you been telling her about Valerie?” Elizabeth nodded. “And what you’ve been doing today?” She nodded again. “And what’s she been doing? Anything exciting?”

“Riding a pony.”

“Really? Isn’t she a little small for that?” She rolled her eyes at Valerie.

“She’s bigger than me,” Elizabeth admonished. “Silly Mummy.”

“Silly Mummy,” Mary agreed, and cuddled her daughter again. “They’re so imaginative at this age, aren’t they?” Valerie smiled noncommittally. “It’s all very sweet until she’s naughty and then tries to tell me Abbie did it.” She sighed. “Did you have any imaginary friends when you were little? Can you remember?”

“She’s not ‘magin’ry!” Elizabeth protested.

“Of course not, dear.”

“She’s not!”

Valerie shook her head. “No. I don’t remember anyway, and I’m pretty sure Susan wouldn’t have let me forget it.”

“Let me guess: older sister?”

“Uh-huh. Had a brother too. Younger.”

“That must be so strange… I was an only child, so I never had that.”

“You didn’t miss much,” Valerie said automatically. The drinks arrived. “I should check in,” Valerie said, and produced her mobile, speed-dialled home. Elizabeth stood between them, watching Valerie, entranced by the phone.

“Thompson residence?” Marie’s voice.

“Hi, it’s Valerie. Is Jane back?”

“No, Valerie, she’s not. She called to say she’s running a little late. Is anything the matter?”

“No. I’m just… I’m running late too, I guess.” Smile.

“Am I the only one who’s on schedule today?” Marie demanded.

“I have an excuse though. The Teenage Inquisition finally caught up with me.” She winked at Mary, who laughed out loud.

“Who’s Jane?” Elizabeth wanted to know.

“Is it bad?” Marie asked.

“They put me in the comfy chair.” Marie’s laughter matched Mary’s. “They’re using children!”

“Who’s Jane?” Elizabeth insisted with more force. Mary shushed her and spoke to her in low tones.

“Yes, I can hear. Will you be back in time do you think?”

“I wasn’t given a time,” Valerie reminded her. “That’s why I’m phoning. I think I’m going to be – about an hour later than expected. If that’s a problem she needs to call me.”

“All right. I’ll let her know.”

“It won’t be any later than that. Actually thinking about it, I might be back at the normal time anyway. The journey’s so much quicker on the bike.” She’d arrived nearly three quarters of an hour early at college in the morning, and that had been with her taking it very gently.

“I’ll see you then.”

“Okay. Bye.” She hung up.

“Who’s Jane please?” Elizabeth tried again, having activated a different protocol.

“Aunt Jane is who we send naughty children to, to teach them manners,” Valerie told her, putting her phone away.

“I’m not naughty. I promised.” Elizabeth brandished the spot on her hand.

“Yes, you did, didn’t you,” Mary said, and swept her into a hug. Elizabeth squirmed until she was sitting half-curled next to her mother, in the loop of her arm. Valerie retrieved her drink. “You’re living with your aunt?” Mary asked her.

“No. No, er…” She chuckled. “Long story.”

Mary gave every impression of settling in to hear it. Valerie chuckled again, tightly.

“Why don’t you live with your mummy?”

“That’s… a longer story,” Valerie told Elizabeth.

“Were you naughty?” Elizabeth asked in the loudest conspiratorial whisper Valerie had ever heard, grinning over her orange juice.

Valerie froze in remembrance. I ran away. I scared everyone. I wasn’t growing up right. I was turning into something no one expected. No one knew what to do with me. I was so afraid. Does that count? She felt a touch on her hand and recoiled from it as if she’d received a shock.

“Valerie, are you all right?”

Recover. Reorient. Breathe. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“You just sort of… stopped,” Mary said, withdrawing her own hand. Elizabeth was looking at her as well, her worried face mirroring her mother’s.

“How long?”

“Just a few moments. Are you sure you’re okay? Was it something I said?”

“No, I’m fine. Really.” She took a long breath. Shit. “I’m sorry if I alarmed you.” Drink something. Stop the shakes. She tracked onto her smoothie and picked it up. Took a sip. Began to feel better. I’ve got to not do that, she remonstrated with herself. If I go in too deep, he’s not going to be there to bring me out again. That scared her. Really scared her. Just the he’s not going to be there, was a fear like death itself.

“It’s okay. Look, I’m not going to push, but if there’s anything you want to talk about, you can, okay?”

“Thanks, but…” She stopped herself. No, don’t make it worse. “Thanks,” she said again, leaving it at that.

“We’ll talk about something else. Or would you rather just be quiet for a bit?”

“Quiet.”

Mary nodded and sipped her coffee. Valerie cradled her smoothie and slowly sat back, leaning against the back of the sofa. Now you know one of my pressure points, she addressed Mary in her thoughts. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Soft canned jazz, and the traffic sounds from outside. Quiet conversation from the few other customers also in the shop. She felt Elizabeth shifting restlessly, then leaning suddenly against Valerie’s side.

“Liz-” Mary began.

“It’s okay,” Valerie said, not opening her eyes. She put her arm around the little girl, let her take hold of her hand.

Valerie exhaled. “Anyway. Where were we?” She opened her eyes.

“I was asking how you do that with your hair?”

“No you weren’t.”

“I am now. I was going to.”

“Anyway, how I do what with my hair?” She already knew.

“You know, the way the light-“

“Oh, that.” Valerie tried to fight down a blush. It didn’t work now better than it ever had. “Classified.”

“Please. I must know.”

“Get used to disappointment.”

Wide smile. “Okay.” That’s how the script went.

“Gentian violet,” Valerie conceded. She took another sip of her smoothie, then stopped and lowered the glass to her lap where she could hold it still.

“Really.” Mary sounded doubtful.

“Just a little, mixed in with black. You’ve got to be careful or you end up with bright purple hair.”

“Mmm. I’ll have to try that.”

“Let me know how you get on. Bet you get it wrong first time.”

“I think I made a mistake,” Valerie said. Something – something else – she didn’t want to admit to Jane.

“What? Music?”

“Am I imagining it or did everyone else start when they were three or thereabouts?”

Mary smiled. “I was six. Piano lessons. But you’ve got a point. I’ve got little one on the piano already.”

“I started last year. And it shows. Don’t lie.”

“All right, I won’t lie.” Valerie braced herself. “I heard your first composition piece. The piano one?”

“Oh God.”

“It was beautiful.”

“It was naïve. Simplistic. One cliché after another-“

“Don’t listen to what Peter says. He’d tell Mozart he’s using too many notes.”

Valerie snickered at that.

“It nearly made me cry,” Mary continued. “I thought it was really good.”

Valerie cradled her drink, looking at it. “It was the first thing I’d ever even tried to compose. It wasn’t going to be any good. Anyway, the essays are what’s killing me.” She sighed. “‘Choose any one work by Purcell to illustrate his effective setting of the English language.’ I don’t know where to start.”

“I thought that would be an easy one for you,” Mary said. “What with your singing.”

“Yes, but-“

“Have you chosen the piece yet?”

“Uh. Yeah, I thought Dido’s Lament?”

“Oh, right. I was thinking of one of the sacred works. Um. Have you got it with you?”

Valerie thought. “Sure. Hang on.” She pulled open her backpack and eased the Libretto out. The libretto’s in the Libretto, she realised. Haha. “Here it is,” she said, displaying it full-screen. It was actually the manuscript score. She handed the Libretto across.

“Cool. How’d you do this?”

“I could tell you, but it’s severely geeky.”

Mary smiled wanly. “Take your word for it,” she admitted. “You’ve got the whole score?”

“Yes.” From when she was trying to choose what to use. All scanned in and traced into EPS and turned into a single PDF. Too bad there wasn’t a Gutenburg Project for music, or even a standard musical notation file format. It would take a lot less space.

“So, okay, the Lament. Oh, you’ve got the right page already. ‘When I am laid in the earth, May my wrongs create,’ etc.”

“That’s it.”

“Hm. Come on,” She stood up suddenly, taking the Libretto with her.

“Where—?” Valerie began, but Mary’s destination was rapidly obvious. She headed for the grand piano in the centre. “Er…” Valerie checked behind. Elizabeth was quite happy where she was, chattering quietly to herself or whoever. Abbie, presumably. She wouldn’t be out of sight. “Fancy them having a piano here,” she said, wryly.

“Yeah, funny that,” Mary said, deadpan. “Wondered why I liked the place.” A nod to Jill behind the bar, who waved a quick thumbs-up. This, again, seemed to be a semi-regular occurrence. The canned jazz faded and disappeared. “Not performing,” Mary called across to Jill. “Working on something.”

“‘Kay.” The place was quiet anyway.

Mary settled down. “You ready?” She sat the Libretto up on the music stand. “Can you see?”

“What, you want me to sing?” Valerie squeaked, suddenly catching up. “Here?”

Mary just glanced around at her and started playing the long bass accompaniment. “Like I said, we’re just working stuff out. No-one’s expecting a performance. Would you rather I sang?”

Mary could hold a tune with her singing voice. That was about the kindest thing you could really say about it, but Valerie knew it wasn’t an idle threat. She’d sing, if Valerie didn’t. Mary played the few notes of introduction.

When I am laid in earth, may my wrongs create,
No trouble in thy breast.
Remember me, but ah! Forget my fate!

It was a bit rough. Valerie had sung it once or twice before, at home by herself where she didn’t have to feel so self-conscious, and that helped. She’d got over being self-conscious about Jane or Marie overhearing her at singing practice the previous year.

She lost the third ‘Remember me’ a little due to nerves and trying not to sing too loudly. The part was written for a mezzo-soprano, but this aria was subdued, down; the character was about to die of, well, feh, as far as Valerie could tell. Terminal shortage of feck. So it was all easily within reach of her own contralto.

“Meh,” Mary agreed. “Let’s go back a bit. The recitative just before this.”

“You know it then?”

“Did it at my old school last year. Yours truly hidden away safely in the chorus. How do I go back on this thing?” she wondered, poking at the Libretto. Valerie took over and paged up a couple of times.

“It was written for a school,” Valerie said, to make conversation.

“Yeah.” Her fingers descended onto the keys. “Thy hand,” she prompted, and a nod-

Thy hand, Belinda, darkness shades me,
On thy bosom let me rest,
More I would, but Death invades me; Death is now a welcome guest.

Long, slow phrases, descending, slowing. It was tired, Valerie thought. “That’s beautiful. She’s just tired of it now,” Mary said, echoing her own thought. “That long ‘darkness,’ literally.” Smile. “Hear how it just keeps falling,” she played the voice part, one-handed, on its own, for the third line, and started singing it quietly until Valerie took it over again. She’d forgotten the rest of the café. “It just… That’s called a dying descent. I mean, the words are almost nothing. It’s hardly Shakespeare,” she grimaced. “The words are just carrier. Like a scaffold to hang the music off, and the music, the sound is where the heart of it is.”

“It’s low for a soprano,” Valerie said. “I could belt it out,” not that she did, or would, “but a soprano couldn’t put a lot of air through this.”

“But it’s written for soprano, so why did he write it like that? Can you imagine Puccini on this? Soprano death-scene, she’d be singing to shatter the windows, and never mind she’s dying of Consumption.” Valerie chuckled. “It’s quiet.”

“Breathless,” Valerie hazarded. “Long notes right at the bottom of her voice. She’s going to run out of air, like that long ‘darkness’. Well, not really,” she amended, “‘cause obviously it’s written within limits, but you know what I mean.”

Mary turned with a satisfied look. “No, I don’t. Explain it to me. In the essay.” She grinned.

Valerie nodded. “Right.” She had a way in. “Thank you.”

---

“Jo!” Elizabeth sang, and squirmed off of the sofa to run to the new arrival almost as soon as the tall, lanky figure had entered the building.

Valerie immediately recognised the one whose sex she couldn’t figure out at lunch. She felt her stomach clench up again. They’d finished at the piano and were once again occupying the sofa. Valerie had been feeling reasonably back to normal. Jo dropped to one knee as the child approached, hand-on-chest, and called “Your Majesty!” The lipstick had gone, Valerie noticed.

“Who’s Queen?” Elizabeth challenged.

“Why, I don’t know, your Majesty,” Jo did a creditable Stephen Fry impression.

“Who’s Queen?” Elizabeth repeated, stamping her foot. Then she laughed.

“Why you are, of course!”

“Oh shut up, Melchie.” It was perfectly intoned, and far too much for Valerie, who had to put her drink down quickly to stop spilling it as she laughed aloud. It was raucous, and she immediately felt self-conscious and shut up. She’d not laughed as freely as that for… months, she supposed. Jo bundled Elizabeth under an arm and walked the rest of the way to the table. Elizabeth squealed, her legs kicking air behind Jo’s back.

“Put her down, Jo,” Mary begged. “She’s been so good up to now.”

“Oh, that won’t do at all,” Jo replied, but spun Elizabeth around and set her down, tousled and slightly dazed, then flomphed into one of the armchairs. “Hoo, she can’t have put on weight since last week, can she?” Long, thin legs, one ankle resting on the other knee as she almost lay in the armchair.

“It’s possible.”

“You’re a lump, you know that?” Jo told Elizabeth. “You’re a big little lump. A little big lump. The battle of the little big lump.” Elizabeth’s reply was to charge at the chair and clamber over on top of Jo. “Hey, careful, you know I bruise easily.”

“Sorry,” Elizabeth said, and sat in Jo’s lap.

“Wow, you are being good today, aren’t you.”

“I promised. Val’rie’s got a magic pen.” She showed her spot again.

Jo looked at it, and up at Mary, mystified. Mary showed her own spot. Jo looked at Valerie and quirked an eyebrow. Valerie smiled. “A magic pen?” Jo asked Elizabeth.

“Yeah.” Elizabeth grabbed onto the lapel of Jo’s jacket and hooked a finger through a buttonhole. “Keeps promises.”

“Oh, I wish I had one of those,” Jo said wholeheartedly. “Bloody boyfriend.”

“Bloody boyfriend,” Elizabeth echoed.

“Jo…” Mary admonished, despairingly.

Jo ignored Mary. “Yeah. You’re going to grow up to be a big hairy dyke, aren’t you?” she said to Elizabeth.

“No!”

“What’s he done this time?”

“Forgotten our anniversary, the pig!”

“Pig!”

“Yeah. All men are pigs.”

“Yeah.”

“You cleaned that lipstick off, I see,” Mary observed dryly.

“Damn straight. I’ve got my reputation to think of after all.”

Mary laughed.

“Hi, Jo, what’ll it be?” Jill had reappeared.

“‘Spresso!”

“Guess so,” Jo agreed.

“Okay. Coming right up.”

Elizabeth laughed and clambered down to run to the bar to watch.

“Anyway, you know, we haven’t been properly introduced,” Jo stood, addressing Valerie. “Hi, I’m Jo.” She stuck her hand out to shake. Man-style, Valerie noted, confused all over again.

“Valerie,” she replied neatly. She didn’t get up, but laid her hand in Jo’s delicately and Jo actually bowed.

“Enchanté.”

“Thank you,” Valerie managed, as formally as she could.

“So what scurrilous lies has Mary been telling you about me behind my back?” Jo asked, falling back into the armchair.

“None at all,” Mary replied, saving Valerie from the moment. “We didn’t even mention you.”

“You mean you haven’t been talking about me? Why not? Ah, forgotten in my own lifetime!”

“Jo,” Mary started.

“Yes, sweet lady?”

“Shut up, there’s a good chap.” Mary affected an aristocratic accent of her own to deliver the line.

“Is that the time already?”

“Yes.”

Jo sulked.

“You love me really.”

“Yes.”

Elizabeth led Jill back to the table, looking very pleased with herself. Jill set down the coffee. “Aha,” Jo worfed. “A warrior’s drink!” Elizabeth clambered back up between Mary and Valerie.

“Is it that bad?” Valerie asked, relaxing a little.

Jo sipped, grimaced. “Exquisitely vile. But uneasy lies the head that fails to entertain the queen.”

“If you hate it that much—” Mary began, but Jo just waved to dismiss the thought.

---

“Bugger me, it worked,” Mary said quietly to Valerie. They were walking back through the campus, towards the student entrance of the main building. Elizabeth was riding Jo’s shoulders ahead of them.

“What?”

“That pen trick you did.”

“Oh, that.” Valerie was no less astonished, but she just said, “Use sparingly.”

“Yes, of course. I’d better get a marker pen.”

Valerie handed it over. “And make a thing of it. Some little ritual.”

Mary nodded. “How did you just happen to have one on you anyway?”

“Ah.” Valerie grinned. “Electronic engineers never go anywhere without their coloured pens.” Mary chuckled. “Hmm. If I were you, I’d wash it off when you get inside. The promise was just for the coffee-shop, and she discharged it. Let her know it. Don’t try to stretch it out to more than she promised to.”

“You’ve worked with kids before?”

“Not much. I did some sitting last year.” Only a little, before she was sent away. She envied Val her longer experience with the Parker children. She’d been looking forward to that, before her life got turned upside down – again.

It was funny; she hadn’t really given the Parker kids a lot of thought back home. A vague sense of disappointment, certainly, but the loss of the income had bitten more deeply; at least until she got paid for the security systems installation work at Jane’s house. That and a new laptop she didn’t have to pay for did a lot to assuage her disappointment. No, it wasn’t until she’d come here, and heard Val talk about Ricky and Stella and heard how involved she’d become in their lives that she began to feel she’d really missed something.

“It’s nice when they put the charm on, isn’t it?” Mary commented. Valerie laughed quietly. Jo and Elizabeth were waiting for them by the door, Elizabeth back on terra-firma.

“So, you and Jo seem close,” Valerie observed.

“Yes, I suppose we are, in a strange way,” Mary agreed.

“How long have you known each other?”

“Oh, only since September. But, well, shit happened.”

“It always does,” Valerie agreed.

“You may not believe it now, but there’s a real person under all that performance.”

“I’m sure there is.”

“I trust her with my daughter,” Mary said firmly. Valerie nodded, understanding. They closed the rest of the distance.

“I have to get back,” Valerie said. “I’ve just got to get my gear.” She took a breath, hesitating at the thought. She didn’t like going to the lockers when it was quiet like this. When she looked up she found Jo watching her.

“I’ll walk you to the lockers,” Jo offered.

“They’re just around the corner…”

“I know. I just thought you’d like the company.”

Valerie found herself looking up into Jo’s steady grey eyes. Jo had three, maybe four inches height advantage over her, but she was thin. There seemed to be a frailty about her that her exuberant personality belied. Valerie remembered what Mary had said and nodded, finally. “Okay.”

“Sure you don’t want to stay and watch the rehearsal?” Mary asked.

“Like I said, I have to get back-“

“I know, but you look like you wouldn’t mind having an excuse. I think we were planning to go and get something to eat afterwards.”

Valerie chuckled. “Oh, I’d just get in the way and make people nervous,” she said. Besides, I don’t want to chance being roped in.

“Mummy I need to go!”

“Well, that’s my cue,” Mary said with a lopsided grin.

“Lizzie go plop-plop?” Jo queried. Elizabeth just gave that the look it deserved.

“So we’ll see you Monday, right?” Mary addressed Valerie. “At lunch? You can meet the rest of the posse.”

“I’ll…” She prevaricated. “I usually go out for lunch when it’s not raining,” she began. “Maybe.” She could always bug out on the bike somewhere if she changed her mind, she thought.

Mary shrugged. “Well, I’ll see you in Music on Monday anyway.”

“Mummy!”

“Come on then, my little dæmon.” They led the way inside. Valerie and Jo went off in the other direction, to the lockers. Jo was humming a tune Valerie didn’t immediately recognise. It was familiar though.

“So are you going to come to our play?” Jo asked suddenly.

“I don’t know. What is it?”

“Blood Wedding. I’m the Moon. Only get one proper speech, but it’s a good ‘un.”

“Ah.” It meant nothing to Valerie.

“The whole yeargroup’s doing the three plays together next term. They’re on our course texts. You should come.”

Valerie thought about it as they walked. For a moment she thought she might suggest it as a torture for Jane’s new student, before she realised what she was doing. These two worlds she wanted to keep very separate. “Maybe. I’m not sure what I’ll be doing by then though.”

“There’ll be posters up nearer the time, so there won’t be any excuse if you are around.” Jo grinned, and resumed humming. They were at the lockers anyway. Valerie opened hers and busied herself getting her back-protector on, followed by the leather armour. Somewhere nearby a locker door slammed shut and she reflexively scanned the area, catching sight of a figure walking away down the corridor. “You are a startly little thing, aren’t you,” Jo observed, from where she was leaning against the window-frame opposite.

“Watch who you’re calling little,” Valerie warned, but flashed a small smile back anyway. A group of students burst out of the male changing-room at the end of the corridor, kitted out for rugby. Valerie felt another full-body flash of adrenaline. They were boisterous and jeering amongst themselves, the studs making a strange, plastic, multitudinous crunching sound on the linoleum as they passed behind her and out towards the playing field. None of them paid her or Jo the slightest attention.

This is ridiculous, she berated herself harshly. I’ve got to get over this. Somewhere between the last time she was at high school and starting at this college she seemed to have lost the knack of not showing her fear. That was probably what was scaring her more than anything, she thought. If I could go home tomorrow, she wondered, would I be able to go back to McAllen’s? If I’m going to be in this state?

There was the sound of a body leaning against the lockers close to her. She looked up into Jo’s grey eyes again. “It’s okay,” Jo said. “No-one’s going to hurt you here.” Her words gave Valerie the second flash of adrenaline within a minute, making her actually feel wobbly. How did you know? she wanted to demand. Jo’s small, secretive smile was its own reply, and Valerie only had to look at her to guess how she might have recognised what Valerie was flinching from. She forced herself not to avert her eyes, and nodded slowly.

“I know,” she said, eventually. “It’s just a belief-deficit.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m okay.” She finished pulling on the leather trousers and zipped up the jacket. “Really. Don’t you have a rehearsal to get to?” She sat down on one of the plastic chairs bolted to the wall to put her boots back on.

Jo smiled again. “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah. Go on.” The armour she was now wearing helped. She could take a swing or several from a baseball bat in this. kevlar++;

Jo pushed off. “Okay. See you at lunch Monday then,” she waved and turned, dancer-like, and headed off back the way they had come. “I’m a creep,” she sang, the same tune she had been humming earlier, “I’m a weirdo-o-o-whoah!” as she nearly bumped into someone coming round the corner the other way. Valerie grabbed her helmet and gloves and locked up and headed for the car park. “What the hell’m I doing here?” Jo’s voice echoed through the empty corridors. “I don’t belong here…”

“Fuck, shit, fuckity-shitshitshit,” Valerie swore as she stomped out to where her bike was parked. She didn’t have far to go; one of the benefits of not using a car. It was the only full-size bike in the bike area near the door; most being 125cc learner-legal or motor scooters or bicycles, but at this time of evening her bike was almost alone. “Shitty shitty fuckity-fuck!” she screamed. “Mike!” She almost ripped the disc-lock off.

“Calm.”

“Is it fucking written on my forehead?”

“It is when you go round acting like a victim, Tucker. You know better than that.”

“Yeah.” She couldn’t stop shaking. At least now it was from anger, directed at herself. She put her keys into the ignition and put her helmet on, struggling with the chinstrap. “Come on!” she berated her fingers. “I do know better than that. So what the fuck is wrong with me?” He didn’t have an answer for that, of course, because neither did she. She fought her fingers into her gloves and got on the bike. She sniffled. Maybe Malmsbury Girls’ School wouldn’t be so bad.

“Uniform’s kind of cute. If you’re into preppy tentacle-bait.”

“You’re not helping,” she lied, finding a stray chuckle. She punched the starter.

“You can’t ride like this, Tucker, you’ll get yourself killed.”

So she just sat astride the bike and cried and let the engine run. Without her really noticing, her hands dropped to her side, turned outwards and grasped at empty air.

---

“There’s a package for you,” Marie said, more or less as soon as Valerie came in through the garden. The ride back had cheered her up again. It had a way of doing that. I love my bike.

“Oh?”

Marie pointed. It was sitting by the side of the table; a cardboard box about two feet on each side, more or less, and a Fedex waybill. She sat down next to it, starting to take her boots off while peering over at it. “Wonder who it’s—” She stopped. It was from home. Val. It had better be Val anyway. “Oh, God, what’s she gone and done? I only got her some CDs.” British indie stuff she had reason to think Val might like.

“Open it and see?” Marie said, coming to sit nearby. Curious, presumably.

Valerie looked at her for a moment, sighed once, then produced a penknife and cut through the parcel tape. “Is Jane back yet?” she asked as she worked.

“Not yet. I expect it’ll be all-hands-to when she is,” she added.

She’s got me a new dress, Valerie knew. Jane’s appointment at the dressmaker’s to review arrangements for her new students was just too convenient a cover. Remember to be nice. And surprised. And it will be gorgeous of course. She got the box open. There was an immediate smell of… Home. “Oh my God.” She reached down into the box. “Oh Val…” Her hand came up clutching her US first edition Hitch-Hiker’s Guide. It used to be Dad’s – it was older than she was, of course – but she’d read it and read it until the cover was hanging on by a few paper fibres, and at some point it had just ended up parked in her room.

About half the box was full of books; mostly old paperbacks with yellowing pages and frayed covers. The smell hit her in waves. She hadn’t noticed until now how American books seemed to smell different from British ones. Presumably some difference in the printing or paper-making process, she didn’t know. She pulled more out, to see what there was. The whole Hitch-Hiker’s Guide series. A couple of Pern, several of the Darkover. “Oh I don’t believe she did this,” Valerie breathed. A couple of Asimovs, Robots stuff. Some Niven, some early Heinlein. And Bradbury. Here a section in The Silver Locusts had come adrift from the perfect binding, just as she remembered it.

The box didn’t only contain books. Some of the printed T-shirts that Susan had auctioned off before going to college were in there, including the subliminal one and the Disaster Area tour dates one. The facehugger toy from Alien. It went on. Valerie had to stop. She thought she’d cry, but her eyes stayed dry. “I…” she began. “I don’t know what I think about this.”

“These are all things from your childhood,” Marie observed. It was redundant. Social noise. Valerie nodded.

“God, look at this. Such a geek.” She chuckled, pulling out one of the larger, hardback books near the bottom. It was an old popular physics encyclopædia for children. “I bet some of these theories haven’t been superceded yet.”

“Haven’t been?” Marie checked. Valerie grinned and flicked through to find a particular page.

“Here it is,” she leaned forward with it to show Marie. A description of black holes, and someone had written ‘QUANTUM SINGULARITYS OFF THE PORT BOW’ in blue ballpoint along the top margin. “I remember doing that,” she said. “I don’t know, I must have thought it was funny at the time.”

“I don’t get it,” Marie admitted.

“Doesn’t matter.” She stroked a finger along the handwritten words, feeling the indentation in the paper. “It’s just strange. I remember doing this.” She raised the book to her nose and smelled it. “But she did it, to this one. This copy.” She put it down. “It’s hers. This is all her stuff. Oh my God!”

Valerie’s hand reached into the box again and came out with a video cassette. “I can’t believe she sent me this!”

“What is it?”

“Uh…” She’d recognised the label immediately. Dan had done a nice art job on it. “It’s um, pop videos.” She laughed unexpectedly and tried to explain; “Mike and I used to make these a few years ago.”

“What did you do on them? Dancing?”

“What? Oh no.” As if. “We’d cut together footage from anime, mostly, and other films or TV and edit it in with the music. Something brilliantly inappropriate of course.” She smiled at a memory. “God, I’d forgotten about these. We did it all on a couple of VCRs and some fancy cable-work.”

“Can I see them?”

“Oh no, you won’t want to…” Valerie stopped up against a new thought. “Oh, she’s an idiot.”

“What?”

“They won’t play here.” She dropped it onto the table, slumping back against the back of the seat. “NTSC. They won’t play here. You’re saved the torment.” She pulled out a wry smile. “I’d have to get a dual-format player, God knows how much they cost.” Maybe they have one in the college AV department, she wondered. Get them encoded to MPEG or something—

Marie’s hand touched hers. Valerie turned her hand over to grasp it.

“I’m okay. Really. I just don’t know what she was thinking. I don’t know what she thought this would achieve.” She gave Marie’s hand a final squeeze and let go, bending to finish taking her boots off. “Maybe she just wanted to get rid of some old junk.” I didn’t mean that.

“If I understand correctly,” Marie said carefully, “these are all from before you and she… diverged?”

Valerie nodded, straightening. “Yes.” She stood to get the leather trousers off. “As far as we know.”

“Then surely this is all yours just as much as it is hers? Don’t you think?”

Valerie stepped out of the leather trousers, down to her jeans, and wriggled free of the jacket. She sat down again and dumped the gear on the bench next to her. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

“I’m sure that’s what she thinks,” Marie continued. “Haven’t you talked to her about this?”

Valerie sighed. “Who owns what? Not really.” She shook her head. “She’s indigenous; it’s hers. All my stuff is – somewhere else.” How long will they keep my room intact in case I return? she wondered. Would they have cleared it out yet? She counted it up. Four and a half months. That was all. They probably think I ran away again. They probably think I might just turn up on the doorstep one day. Or that a police officer will, to say they found the body.

She looked again at the stuff she’d already taken out of the box and strewn on the table. She tried to find some sense of connection to it. They didn’t seem right, out of place like this. Not where they should be, on her shelves back home.

“You have a past, Valerie,” Marie pressed.

“Actually that’s a matter of conjecture,” Valerie said, hearing her own voice sounding more caustic than she’d intended. “I have memories. They’re not supported by reality. There’s no evidence I even existed five months ago.” She sighed. “Everyone very kindly pretends otherwise,” she finished.

Marie looked at her for a few more moments, then got up. “I got you something,” she said. “Shall we get that over with before Jane comes back and things get too busy?”

Valerie sat straighter. “Sure.” Don’t be a depressive fuck, she reminded herself. People are going to get bored of it. People you need. “Whatcha got?”

“Oh it’s just something little. I wouldn’t get too excited.”

“Sounds perfect already. Jane’s…” The word-buffer emptied.

“I know.”

“So, do you think I need to go up and do something nice with my hair in a minute?”

Marie smiled, returning to the table with a giftwrapped package. “I think that might be a good move. Would you like me to help?”

Valerie chuckled. “Sure, why not? Old times’ sake.” She caught the hesitation, the falter in Marie’s smile. This Marie had never done such a thing. Damn. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right, I understand.”

Valerie took the present and ripped it open. Two books. “The Little Prince,” she murmured. “Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.” It looked like a book for children. Childlike illustration on the cover. What was she thinking?

“Don’t worry, it’s not in the original French,” Marie explained.

Valerie looked at the other book. “Sophie’s World by Jostein Gaardner.” She knew she sounded nonplussed.

“You haven’t read them have you?” Marie queried.

“No, no I haven’t.” At least the second book didn’t look like it should be given to an eight-year-old. She turned it over to read the blurb. “Philosophy?” She tried not to sound like she’d just found herself holding a dead fish.

“This one,” Marie tapped the first book, “only looks like it’s just for children. I know they seem like strange gifts right now, but I hope you’ll read them.”

“I will,” Valerie said quietly. “I’m intrigued. It’s so not what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. Something on cookery, I guess.”

Marie chuckled.

---

The dress was gorgeous, from the silver brocade in the black velvet bodice to the iridescent black of the full skirt; a match for her hair. If you were going to spend a lot of money on the Gothic Princess look, Valerie thought, it would probably end up a little like this. And Jane seemed to have spent a lot of money, and still seemed to hint that the ‘real’ present was yet to come, tied in somehow with wherever she was taking them this evening. She tipped her head forward to fasten the lapis lazuli necklace at the nape of her neck. There. Protected. She found a smile at that thought, and recorded the sense-memory, so she could replay it at will during the rest of the evening. She had already donned the earrings and bracelet. Together the flashes of blue from the jewellery had the effect Jane had wanted. “Heh,” Valerie said to her reflection’s intense blue gaze, “Not too shabby.” She’d done her own make-up too, and felt she’d done the rest justice.

“Give in to it once in a while.”

Valerie nodded. “Yeah.” She laughed. Only a small laugh, but it felt good. Marie had dressed her hair up into an elegant French braid with a pretty silver clasp and a couple of pins that were long and sharp enough to possibly come in handy in a tight corner. “Yeah, pretty damn good-looking there, Tucker,” she said aloud. “Whodathunkit?” Last time I dressed up like this was for Debbie. That was a familiar, sad thought.

She sighed. On an impulse she put the smaller of the books Marie had given her into her smart handbag and let herself out of her room.

---

A little earlier, Marie had been genuinely taken aback when Jane had also produced a new dress for her, and instructed her to go and get ready.

“Jane, this isn’t fair,” Marie had protested. “I’m not some pretty young thing that can get dolled up in five minutes.”

“Nonsense, dear. You get upstairs immediately. We’re on a schedule.”

“But what about Mrs. Lawrence?”

“What about Mrs. Lawrence?”

“I was about to start dinner, that’s what about Mrs. Lawrence!” Marie snapped. “Why do you always have to do this?” Valerie, pausing at the door bearing her own new dress in a box, enjoyed the show. Her hair had been done already, before Jane returned. Marie didn’t talk like this to Jane when there were students around.

“Oh, yes,” Jane appeared genuinely to have been reminded of something she’d forgotten. Valerie wasn’t fooled for a moment. “You’re quite correct. Dinner shall not be required tonight as we shall be dining out. Harriet sends her regrets but she is quite unable to free herself from her commitments.”

“I swear if you’d sprung this on me five minutes later I would have been…” She ran dry, in the face of Jane’s amused, patient look.

“But you’re not. Now, there’s no time to lose, so get about it, both of you.”

Long inward breath. “Yes, Jane.”

---

Valerie knocked on Marie’s door. “Come in!” She went in.

“How’re you doing?”

Marie, at her small dressing table, shook her head. “That woman is impossible.”

“You noticed already?”

Via the mirror Marie’s eyes turned to the heavens. Then she did a double-take and turned around in her seat to look at Valerie properly.

“Alors,” she breathed. Valerie blushed. “I forgive her everything.”

As usual, Valerie heard it unspoken.

“You like?” She did a twirl.

“Oh Valerie, if I was thirty years younger—”

“Marie!” Valerie blushed more. “I didn’t think you were that way inclined.”

“Nor did I.”

Valerie blew a raspberry. “So, need a hand? Hey, get up. Let me see yours.”

“It’s no contest, I assure you.” She stood up to show her dress to Valerie. “If I was thirty years younger,” she said again, “I still would have looked frumpy,” she admitted, smiling.

“You do not look frumpy!”

“Now you’re being kind.”

“Marie—”

Marie chuckled. “It’s all right, Valerie. I’m just not used to all this finery on myself for once. But now I see you, I know everyone’s going to be looking at you all evening and no-one will notice me, and that’s just how I like it.” That really did sound heartfelt. “I can relax and enjoy myself now.”

“Aw, Marie.” She impulsively hugged the older woman. “I’m not that pretty. I just had some really good teachers.”

“Seventeen beats forty-six under any circumstances,” Marie pronounced. “Unless you’re Jane, maybe. We can’t all be built like a goddess.”

“Which one? Kali?”

“You can help me with my make-up.” Marie was perfectly capable of doing that herself. That wasn’t the point.

Seventeen. Yeah. Wow. Valerie caught herself in the mirror again. The image of elegance. The make-up was part of it, and the way she held herself in these clothes, but she could allow herself to see how her face had lost its vestiges of puppy-fat and acquired the definition and grace of an adult woman in just a year. It had been a very busy year—

“If you can bear to tear yourself away from the mirror,” Marie chided her vanity.

“Sorry, Marie.” She directed Marie back to the chair. “So do you have any idea what Jane’s got planned yet?”

“Not a clue.”

---

Marie had gone ahead on some pretext, so Valerie descended the wide stairs alone. She could admire the way the dress moved as she walked. The soft swish of the skirt material. She rounded the corner into the parlour. “And there she is, finally,” Jane said. “Valerie, you look truly lovely tonight.”

“Thank you Jane.” Smile. She did the curtsey, just to remind Jane that she could, and because she’d like it. “It fits perfectly. How did you do that?”

“Aha.” Jane, from her seat opposite Marie across the card table, beckoned her in. “Let’s just say I had a co-conspirator and an excellent source of information. Let me see you do a turn, dear.”

Valerie thought about it while she turned. “Val?” Jane smiled. “Val gave you my – I mean her measurements? I don’t believe it! You contacted her?” Fear.

“No, Miss Tucker contacted me in the first instance.”

“What?”

“So this was all partially her idea. She also approved the final design of the dress. She said you’d like it.”

“She did what?” Valerie felt she was starting to repeat herself.

“On condition that we send her photographs. It’s all in hand.”

“I’m going to kill her!”

“You’ll have your opportunity. She’s due to fly in the day after school ends. Don’t do that, dear, you’ll catch flies.”

Valerie closed her mouth. Opened it. Closed it. Opened it. “How?”

“You mean how has this been arranged with her parents’ consent?” Valerie nodded. “I’m given to understand that it’s a long story. I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it tonight after we get back, when you go online. Suffice to say, even though I still consider it a mistake to keep them in the dark, they have not been alerted to your existence, so you can rest easy about that.”

Valerie hmmed. “Okay. I’m still going to kill her.” Her brain was racing. “Oh, I’m still going to be stuck at college until Jul— Wait a minute, the new kid’s going to be here by then.”

Jane mocked surprise. “Why, so he is.” Deadpan. “Well, I’m sure we’ll find ways to keep Miss Tucker suitably occupied.”

“Oh no. Not a chance. You’re not going to do to her what you did to me!”

“I?” Jane queried archly. “I did nothing to you. I don’t leave a job half-done!”

“Ha-” Valerie stopped. “I see,” she said aside to Marie. “I think I’ve just been insulted.” Marie was trying to hold in her giggles. “Anyway, you can’t do Val. It’s too late, it won’t work.”

“Well of course I can’t. Goodness me, that wasn’t what I meant at all.”

“Good.”

“No, no. Miss Tucker is quite lost, I assure you. I can have no hold over her.”

“Even better.” Valerie grinned.

Jane stood. Marie joined her on her feet. “On the other hand,” Jane continued to Valerie, “I hear she has a younger brother who is becoming quite unmanageable at home and in school. I should think he’ll respond very well to correction and gentle feminine guidance, don’t you? Shall we go?”

Valerie was about to object, loudly, until she saw that amused glint in Jane’s eye. It was a look she hadn’t seen for months. If she’d had any doubt that Jane was getting her Evil back, it was gone. Valerie brightened.

“Oh, in that case, what do you need to know?”

“Everything, my dear. Everything.” Jane swept out into the hallway. Valerie waved Marie through as well and took up the rearguard.

“Are you still not going to tell us where we’re going?” she asked.

“No. It’s a surprise.”

“Do we need coats, do you think?” Marie wondered aloud.

“It’s looking a lot nicer now,” Valerie observed.

“We shall bring them,” Jane determined, “I believe the rain will hold off, but it might get chilly later.”

“We’re talking about the weather,” Valerie said, putting the accent on. “How terribly English of us.” She accepted her coat from Jane, draping it over her arm. Jane opened the double doors. Jane’s new Mercedes waited gleaming in the evening light.

“Do you mean to wear that voice all night, Valerie?” she asked.

“Do you know, I think I shall. Miss Marie, would you do me the pleasure?” She offered Marie her arm.

“Why, thank you kindly Miss Thompson.” Marie positively preened at Jane as they went out.

Valerie supposed it was becoming her style: feminine, elegant from an extreme economy of movement; efficiently but self-deprecatingly well-spoken and too well-mannered to offer an opinion unasked. Perfect, like porcelain. Curtsey, smile, say thank you Jane, entertain her guests, be kind, always offer to help and always try to be the perfect daughter.

How strange to become this person after all. How ironic.