across the floor and wall of the corridor.
We can’t go on like this, I think. We’ll have to start again with a new girl. But this is such a terrible, overwhelming prospect that I squash the thought immediately. We have to make things work, however impossible that seems.
I’m so deep in my gloom that when Lucille abruptly taps on the grate of the door, I’m startled.
‘I’m ready,’ she says. There’s something different about her – I notice it immediately. Her voice has changed.
‘Ready for what?’ I say, getting up and looking at her through the grate.
Lucille’s eyes meet mine. ‘For transition.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
After it’s washed, I discover that Lucille’s hair has a natural wave to it that, she admits, she usually blow-dries out. It should be easy to encourage it into ringlets, especially when it’s been wrapped in rags overnight.
‘See?’ I tell her. ‘That’s even more proof that you really are Lucille.’
Lucille nods slowly.
I dye her hair over a basin that I bring into the changing room. Lucille bends her head over it without saying a word. She also submits to the brown contact lenses without a fuss. The change these two alterations make is astonishing.
‘ He will be so pleased with you!’ I tell her.
Lucille’s eyes may be brown now, but they’re as sharp as ever. ‘Who is he , exactly?’
I slip into the familiar chant. ‘ He is the floor beneath our feet and the roof above –’
Lucille cuts me off impatiently. ‘Yeah, I read all that in the remembering book. But who is he really? Does he live here at the farm somewhere?’
‘Of course not!’ I say. ‘He lives out there, on the other side of the fence. But he sends us messages and watches over us.’
‘So none of you have met this person?’
Her questions make me nervous. It’d be so easy to slip up and say something wrong. ‘Not in person,’ I answer cautiously. ‘Look, your memories of him will return with time. The only thing you need to know right now is that he is there to guide and protect us.’
‘But protect us from what?’
I give her the best answer I can manage. ‘From everything out there .’
Four days before Lucille is due to rejoin us, Harry and I decide to bring her out for a test run. When I tell her that she can have breakfast with us the next morning, her face lights up. ‘I can leave this room?’
‘Yes.’ It’s nice to see her look happy for once. But I still have my reservations. ‘Make sure you’re ready when I knock tomorrow.’
She nods. ‘Don’t worry. I will be.’
And, sure enough, when I unlock the door the next morning Lucille is sitting on the edge of her bed, dressed and with her dark curls neatly pinned back. Her hands are folded in her lap, her expression demure.
‘Ready?’
‘Ready,’ she says, sounding excited and a little nervous. When I bring her into the kitchen, Felicity’s eyes widen with amazement.
‘You are her, after all!’ she breathes and then astonishes everyone by running over and hugging her. Lucille doesn’t try to push her off. Possibly she’s too stunned.
Harry stands up and pulls out a chair for Lucille. ‘It’s great to have you here with us,’ he says gallantly.
‘Thank you,’ she says.
For a moment, my eyes meet Harry’s and we exchange a grin. So far, so good.
Today we are having scrambled eggs cooked in the butter I made yesterday. Using the churn is hard work but I find it strangely enjoyable. I love the way the cream transforms – separating and solidifying, becoming something utterly different from what it was before.
Lucille looks down at her plate, frowning. ‘Can’t I have toast instead? I don’t like scrambled eggs.’
‘Today’s word is quiet ,’ I tell her. ‘Toast is too noisy.’
‘What is that supposed to mean?’
‘Every morning he gives us a word to guide us through the day,’ I say as patiently as I can. Lucille should already know about this from her remembering book. ‘Today’s
We can’t go on like this, I think. We’ll have to start again with a new girl. But this is such a terrible, overwhelming prospect that I squash the thought immediately. We have to make things work, however impossible that seems.
I’m so deep in my gloom that when Lucille abruptly taps on the grate of the door, I’m startled.
‘I’m ready,’ she says. There’s something different about her – I notice it immediately. Her voice has changed.
‘Ready for what?’ I say, getting up and looking at her through the grate.
Lucille’s eyes meet mine. ‘For transition.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
After it’s washed, I discover that Lucille’s hair has a natural wave to it that, she admits, she usually blow-dries out. It should be easy to encourage it into ringlets, especially when it’s been wrapped in rags overnight.
‘See?’ I tell her. ‘That’s even more proof that you really are Lucille.’
Lucille nods slowly.
I dye her hair over a basin that I bring into the changing room. Lucille bends her head over it without saying a word. She also submits to the brown contact lenses without a fuss. The change these two alterations make is astonishing.
‘ He will be so pleased with you!’ I tell her.
Lucille’s eyes may be brown now, but they’re as sharp as ever. ‘Who is he , exactly?’
I slip into the familiar chant. ‘ He is the floor beneath our feet and the roof above –’
Lucille cuts me off impatiently. ‘Yeah, I read all that in the remembering book. But who is he really? Does he live here at the farm somewhere?’
‘Of course not!’ I say. ‘He lives out there, on the other side of the fence. But he sends us messages and watches over us.’
‘So none of you have met this person?’
Her questions make me nervous. It’d be so easy to slip up and say something wrong. ‘Not in person,’ I answer cautiously. ‘Look, your memories of him will return with time. The only thing you need to know right now is that he is there to guide and protect us.’
‘But protect us from what?’
I give her the best answer I can manage. ‘From everything out there .’
Four days before Lucille is due to rejoin us, Harry and I decide to bring her out for a test run. When I tell her that she can have breakfast with us the next morning, her face lights up. ‘I can leave this room?’
‘Yes.’ It’s nice to see her look happy for once. But I still have my reservations. ‘Make sure you’re ready when I knock tomorrow.’
She nods. ‘Don’t worry. I will be.’
And, sure enough, when I unlock the door the next morning Lucille is sitting on the edge of her bed, dressed and with her dark curls neatly pinned back. Her hands are folded in her lap, her expression demure.
‘Ready?’
‘Ready,’ she says, sounding excited and a little nervous. When I bring her into the kitchen, Felicity’s eyes widen with amazement.
‘You are her, after all!’ she breathes and then astonishes everyone by running over and hugging her. Lucille doesn’t try to push her off. Possibly she’s too stunned.
Harry stands up and pulls out a chair for Lucille. ‘It’s great to have you here with us,’ he says gallantly.
‘Thank you,’ she says.
For a moment, my eyes meet Harry’s and we exchange a grin. So far, so good.
Today we are having scrambled eggs cooked in the butter I made yesterday. Using the churn is hard work but I find it strangely enjoyable. I love the way the cream transforms – separating and solidifying, becoming something utterly different from what it was before.
Lucille looks down at her plate, frowning. ‘Can’t I have toast instead? I don’t like scrambled eggs.’
‘Today’s word is quiet ,’ I tell her. ‘Toast is too noisy.’
‘What is that supposed to mean?’
‘Every morning he gives us a word to guide us through the day,’ I say as patiently as I can. Lucille should already know about this from her remembering book. ‘Today’s
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