Nathalie and Ladybird nodded. Beth laid her head on Mother’s swollen stomach.

  The green-eyed woman placed a hand over her décolletage. ‘Breathe,’ she whispered. Her followers breathed as one. ‘Receive your sacred mission. Breathe. Receive the child that grows inside you. Breathe.’

  A woman, the chocolate-haired native who Samantha had only spoken to twice, stood up from the bed where she had been lying and moved to the circle that had formed on the carpet. Her face looked flushed as she moved to sit beside Ladybird on the floor. Mother leant forward to stroke her forehead.

  ‘Pandora,’ Mother said. ‘You feel warm. Are you feeling okay?’

  The chocolate-haired woman, Pandora, nodded.

  ‘You are the closest of us to deliverance,’ Mother continued.

  Pandora breathed. ‘Yes, Mother.’

  ‘And do you embrace your celestial purpose?’

  ‘Yes, Mother.’

  ‘And are you ready to receive the child that grows inside you?’

  ‘Yes, Mother.’

  ‘And, sweet Pandora,’ Mother touched her well-rounded bump, ‘are you prepared to give the gift upon deliverance?’

  Pandora nodded. ‘Yes, Mother. I am ready to give the gift.’

  From the sofa, Samantha saw Evelyn, who was on her bed, peer over the pages of the book she was reading and shake her head.

  After being brought to the room by Mary all those weeks ago, it hadn’t taken Samantha very long to realise she had, essentially, been dumped in an asylum. The room was pleasantly decorated and indeed, Robert hadn’t lied, there was a television, but the atmosphere was rotten, and the women held within even further into the process of decomposition. Their minds had turned to mush. Women like Mother, who had been in this place for innumerable years, had invented ways to rationalise their experiences as something meaningful. Simple-minded natives like Pandora, Beth and Ladybird lapped it up like babes on the teat. Others, Nathalie and Jade included, couldn’t help but be drawn into the circle of insanity, desperate for something to hold onto.

  Their celestial mission.

  Strangely, it wasn’t difficult for Samantha to see why Mother thought the way she did. Nine months of relaxed convalescence was certainly easier than any amount of time spent with Lee. I’d take television over being fucked by him any day. The blessing, so it turned out, was simply to have their bodies returned to them for nine months. After that, they would enter a new cycle of shame. By the time they made it back to the room — back to their sacred mission — they were each a little more fucked in the head.

  And so, they sat on the carpet in a circle worshipping the feminine state of pregnancy. Nine months of peace and quiet in exchange for the giving of their gift. Nine months of peace and quiet in exchange for handing over their child to the doctor.

  Samantha both pitied them and felt repulsed by them at the same time.

  On the carpet, the women were becoming more restless.

  ‘Praise her.’ Mother’s eyes flashed as she presented Pandora to the others in the huddle. ‘Praise your sister and embrace her. Praise her for the gift she is soon to deliver.’

  Ladybird started humming and Beth shuffled away from Mother to be closer to Pandora. Their hands were all over the young woman as they caressed her. The hair on top of her head was loosened and allowed to tumble down over her slender shoulders. Samantha could see the young woman was shivering and decided she couldn’t stand the insanity any longer. Sighing as she stood, she walked to the circle of pregnant women and clapped her hands.

  ‘Alright, that’s enough of this for one night,’ she said. ‘Bedtime for the celestial children.’ She turned to look at Mother. ‘Bedtime for the celestial mother, too.’

  Mother held her gaze. ‘You do not believe, Samantha?’

  Believe what? That you’re a fucking lunatic?

  ‘I believe,’ Samantha said, ‘that I like sleep.’

  Cross-legged on the floor, Pandora placed a soft hand on Samantha’s leg.

  ‘She’s right, Mother,’ she said. Her teeth were chattering. ‘I’m tired and—’ Pandora stopped and squeezed her eyes shut. The others in the group turned, concerned.

  ‘Are you okay, Pandora?’ Beth asked, touching her arm.

  Pandora tried to speak. After swallowing, she nodded. ‘Yes, I’m okay.’

  Mother reached across and placed a hand on Pandora’s forehead. When she removed her palm, it was covered in sweat. The younger woman balled her fists and breathed suddenly.

  ‘The wave, Mother,’ Pandora uttered between clenched teeth. ‘The wave.’

  In a burst of energy, Mother nudged the other women out of the way so that she was in front of Pandora. Samantha stepped to the side and leant against the back of the sofa.

  ‘What is it, my child?’ Mother asked, wrapping her fingers around Pandora’s fist. Pandora dragged in a lungful of air. Mother touched her stomach. ‘Her abdomen,’ she said, ‘it’s hard.’

  Samantha watched as Evelyn put down her book and joined the group. She straightened her smock over her growing stomach as she approached. ‘How many weeks along is she?’ she asked.

  Mother shook her head. ‘Not enough.’

  Pandora relaxed and unclenched her fist. The wave had subsided. Mother encouraged her to stand.

  ‘Let’s change position, sweet Pandora.’ Mother pulled herself up onto her feet and held her hands down for Pandora to take. The younger woman gripped her wrists and wobbled to her feet. Mother supported her. ‘See if this helps, my child.’

  Evelyn carefully lifted Pandora’s smock and began rubbing the small of her back. Balanced between Mother and Evelyn, she seemed fine for a moment. Then, another wave rolled over her.

  ‘Mother!’ Pandora cried. Her knuckles were white as she held onto the green-eyed woman.

  Taking her by the arms, Mother and Evelyn helped Pandora to the sofa. Jade hurried out the way as the other women crowded closer.

  ‘Give her some space,’ Evelyn snapped as she helped Pandora onto the cushions. Beth and Ladybird moved to the sofa opposite.

  Whenever a wave came, Pandora squeezed her eyes shut. Mother knelt on the floor beside her, her skin pinched red inside Pandora’s fist. Her forehead was hot to the touch so Evelyn went to fetch a flannel from the bathroom. When she returned, she placed it on the young woman’s skin. Pandora, meanwhile, was remarkably quiet, especially considering the pain she was so obviously experiencing. Samantha wanted to look away, but found she couldn’t.

  ‘They must be false contractions,’ Mother whispered. ‘It’s too soon.’

  Some of the others nodded their heads in agreement.

  Evelyn leant in close to Pandora and said her name. The other woman’s eyes fluttered open. Her teeth were still chattering. ‘Pandora,’ Evelyn repeated, ‘we need you to tell us something.’ The contracting woman nodded. ‘Do you feel as though the baby has dropped?’ Pandora didn’t say anything so Evelyn repeated her question. When she still didn’t answer, Eveyln lifted the woman's smock. With careful hands, she inspected her abdomen.

  ‘It’s definitely dropped,’ Evelyn whispered.

  Mother shook her head. ‘It’s her first — it doesn’t mean she’s in labour.’

  ‘Perhaps, but I don’t think the baby agrees,’ Evelyn replied. She picked up the flannel and squeezed a few drops of water from it onto Pandora’s forehead.

  Mother instructed Jade to get the clock off the wall so they could time the contractions. A flurry of movement and she dragged the armchair underneath it so as to stand on it to reach.

  ‘I’ve got it,’ Jade said, placing the clock on the coffee table.

  Mother nodded. ‘Good. Now, when the next wave comes, remember the time.’

  Standing awkwardly to the side, Samantha caught Evelyn by the elbow as she went to refresh Pandora’s flannel. ‘Should we get the doctor?’ she asked.

  Evelyn shook her head. ‘Not now. He won’t be interested yet.’

  ‘But she’s early.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Evelyn replied. ‘It might just be false labour. We’ll time the contractions and wait.’

  Pandora’s contractions came at regular intervals. A low wave at first that peaked and then, after about a minute, ebbed away. Sweat had melded with her hair and she no longer looked so pretty. After almost an hour, the screams were loud and long.

  ‘I think it’s time to get the doctor,’ Evelyn said to the group. Beth was crying. Nathalie was biting her nails.

  Mother stood up and moved to the big metal door that kept them in the room. So late at night, there was no way there was going to be anyone on the other side of it, but she banged her fist against it all the same.

  On the sofa, Pandora wailed as another wave engulfed her.

  Certain that it was the only use she was going to be in all of this, Samantha joined Mother at the door and started hammering on it.

  ‘Robert!’ Samantha screamed. ‘We need help in here!’

  As Pandora’s cries got louder and the contractions closer together, Samantha beat the door even harder. Her back ached to be on her feet, but still she flung a cushion from the sofa at the camera in the corner of the room, hoping to catch someone’s attention.

  Eventually, after what seemed like far too long, they heard a click on the other side of the door. The electric lock.

  He yawned before he spoke.

  ‘Good evening, ladies,’ Robert said from the other side of the door. ‘If you can help her — gently — to the door, I will see to her.’

  Samantha had never been so happy to hear a voice she hated so much.

  Twenty

  His hand cupping the back of her head, he nudged her back to the wall with his body and began kissing her neck. How she always smelled so good, he didn’t know. How he had never noticed her smell before confounded him even more. No human words could describe that smell. There was just something about it. His trousers were tight. There was no hiding his excitement.

  Following the curve of her neck up, he rolled her ear lobe between his lips.‘You can unfasten them, if you like,’ he breathed.

  She didn’t fold.

  He let his fingers tangle in her curls. ‘You torture me,’ he said.

  She pressed herself against his groin. ‘I know,’ she whispered.

  His teeth were on her throat now. Ever so gently, he ran his incisors across her exposed skin. His right hand under her clothes, his palm contacting her bare back, his fingertips massaging her body, he felt her shiver.

  ‘Why didn’t you come when I asked?’

  She shivered again as he trailed his tongue across her throat.

  ‘I didn’t realise I was your possession,’ she replied, her voice softer than he had ever heard it before.

  ‘Three weeks—’ He groaned as she slipped her hand under his waistband. ‘That’s how long you made me wait.’

  She was holding him now.

  ‘Not a word for three weeks.’

  ‘I’m not your plaything, Alex.’

  Gripping the back of her neck, he kissed her deeply then pulled away. ‘It seems to me as if you are.’ He smiled, his eyes fixated on hers. He was the first to blink.

  She released him, but he caught her hand as she pulled it out from his trousers. Enmeshing their fingers together, he crouched in front of her, slowly, making sure to hover in front of her most delicate area before moving on. With his left hand he caressed her thigh and lifted her skirt.

  ‘Oh my,’ he teased, ‘what do we have here? Knee socks? How—’ he looked up at her and grinned, ‘interesting.’

  Dropping her hand, he peeled the socks, one at a time, down her legs and — despite feigning reluctance — with her cooperation, over her feet. They were white and delicate and suited her perfectly. Her skin prickled when he kissed her calf.

  This time she folded.

  There was no saying otherwise, Mary vivified him in a way that Tammy never had. A living contradiction, she fascinated him. She was soft, but she isn’t. She was easy, but she isn’t. Most importantly, she was the same as him. But she isn’t. A soft, sweet centre wrapped in a hard, beautiful — near untouchable — shell, Mary had been crafted just for him.

  If his parents had been surprised when he had pulled up on the driveway with Mary in the passenger seat of his car, they hadn’t shown it. Alexander was acutely aware of the awkwardness of having returned home from university with a woman for the second time. That it was a different woman made it worse. That Mary was the different woman redeemed the entire situation.

  He had only picked her up from the train station, of course. She hadn’t joined him in his college room, despite — or perhaps in spite of — his insistence. In the end she had ignored his requests altogether. This miserable, and infinitely less exciting, reality his parents didn’t know. Whatever their assumptions were, he wasn’t about to correct them. That evening, seated next to each other at the table in the house, he had burned for her. She had passed him the bread basket and poured him a glass of wine. He had imagined her naked, stretched across his bed.

  Tonight was the first night he had managed to ensnare her. On every other occasion since they had arrived back, she had been unavailable. Too busy or too torturous. He could hardly tell the difference.

  Would his parents notice? Did he even care? At Mary’s request it had been many weeks since he had smoked cannabis and he was quietly suffering, suffocating, desperate to escape reality.

  He loved it — no, adored it — when she orgasmed. She made a sweet, purring sort of sound that was just so unlike Mary. Or, at least, so unlike the Mary the rest of the world knew. Here, in his arms, she was his and his alone. Shapeless and natural, free of the rules that sought to control them. If he could save them both, he would.

  The curtains of his bedroom hadn’t been drawn. Moonlight streaked into the room and fused with the orange glow of his bedside lamp. Cast half in shadow, Mary’s cheek rested against his chest. Falling from her skin onto his, her curls were girlish and precious and inspired in Alexander an unexpected sense of pride. Trying not to disturb her, he reached to turn off the lamp, but she lifted her chin as he did. He had thought she was asleep.

  ‘What do you think of this?’ she asked slowly.

  A strand of her hair had caught in the corner of her mouth. Alexander pulled it away. ‘Think of what?’

  Mary opened her eyes. ‘Think of us?’

  As drowsy as she was, she couldn’t conceal her genuine insecurity. Large and bright, he could so easily get lost in her eyes. Take a deep drink and never look back. Alexander placed a finger over her lips and soothed her. Lying in his arms, she looked small and delicate. Easily broken by careless hands.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘Sleep if you’re tired.’

  A sleepy smile and she exposed her teeth to nibble his finger. ‘That’s not an answer,’ she teased after releasing him.

  Keeping his arm around her, he shuffled down the bed so his face was in line with hers. He pressed the tip of his nose against hers then kissed her.

  ‘What do you want me to say?’ he asked after he pulled away.

  ‘The truth,’ she whispered. ‘Is this real?’

  With only a few months between them, Alexander had known Mary for as long as they could both remember. A woman and a girl living side by side in the same body, she was timeless to him. Admittedly, he had not always seen her that way. Unconscious of her transformation into womanhood, until relatively recently she had been just a girl. The girl with the freckles who stayed with them every summer. The girl who practically moved in with them after her mother died. The girl who had laughed so hard that milk shot out her nose whilst eating breakfast cereal. The girl who used to spray the hosepipe at the children on the other side of the fence. The girl his grandfather once let slip he was one day supposed to run their homestead with.

  ‘Of course it’s real,’ Alexander replied. ‘What else would it be?’

  The sigh was either relief or disbelief, he couldn’t tell which. ‘Why now?’ she asked.

  Alexander shook his head and rolled onto his back. He drew her close so that her face was once again resting against his chest. ‘Sleep, please,’ he said.

  Her eyelashes tickled his skin. ‘Okay, but only because I’m tired.’

  Alexander laughed. ‘Well, that’s the general idea.’ An exhale blew over the hairs of his chest. ‘Goodnight, Mary.’

  ‘Goodnight, Alex.’

  This time he waited until the rhythm of her breathing altered before reaching for the lamp. In the light of the Moon, he stayed awake and watched the rising and falling of her chest. The quilt had slipped, exposing her breast. He pulled it up and tucked it around her.

  What are you? he wondered as he watched her sleep. Who are you to me?

  Alexander found it immeasurably difficult to be upset with his parents. He loved them both very much and could only think that they had raised him to the best of their abilities. But how could they expect this? How could they expect her and I?

  It was reckless. A clumsy thing for a child to be aware of, whether it was intentional knowledge or not.

  Alexander had been seven years old when he had learnt about the Four Families — the four families who had, in one way or another, shaped his entire existence. His father, Robert, was the head of one of these four families. Another family lived somewhere in Scotland. Another Alexander had met members of throughout his childhood, mostly at events where everyone came together. The fourth family was headed by Ernest Stansfield, and Ern was Mary’s father.

  The death of Francesca Stansfield had been a shock to everyone. Mary lost her mother and, in a way, her father in one fell swoop. She also lost a brother. Francesca had been pregnant when she had crossed the road that day.

  This great tragedy had engendered a second catastrophe. As Ern’s only child, the Stansfield line would end with Mary. Remarriage was unthinkable. The Four Families would shrink to three and the name of one of the Founders would be stolen by circumstance. A solution of sorts was agreed upon: Robert’s heir, Alexander, would be quietly encouraged to wed Mary. She would be placed within his reach and their children would unite the two families.