find the followers buzzing with news – something we have heard nothing about. He has sent them all a message saying that Lucille will rejoin the house in ten days’ time.
My stomach lurches. The Lucille is far from ready. But time has run out. In desperation I actually consider tying Lucille up while she’s asleep and doing her hair that way. But I know that wouldn’t work. Lucille needs to accept what is happening. She needs to believe in it.
It’s a huge relief when I unlock the changing room the next morning to find Lucille fully dressed and, by the look of her face and hands, clean. Maybe that’s why the message was sent to the followers. Perhaps he sensed a change in the Lucille that we had failed to see.
‘How big is this place?’ she asks. ‘There’s a garden or something isn’t there? Where does it end?’
‘The farm is a few kilometres wide,’ I tell her, putting down her tray of food, which includes some tiny, very sweet strawberries that Felicity proudly presented to me yesterday. The guiding word is growth.
‘Hang on. We’re on a farm?’
I laugh. ‘Didn’t you notice the animals outside on your renewal day?’
The Lucille shakes her head. ‘I don’t remember much at all about getting here. I’m pretty sure that guy drugged me. You know, because for you lot it’s bad to look in a mirror but it’s okay to spike someone’s mango smoothie.’
‘We have chickens and a couple of goats for milking,’ I tell her. ‘We had a cow too, for a while.’ I’m glad she doesn’t ask what happened to the cow. She’d probably never use the soap again if she knew. ‘Harry and Felicity grow all our vegetables and fruit out there too.’
I feel Lucille’s sharp gaze on me. ‘Is there a fence?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘A really solid one with barbed wire on top. Only Harry can go through it, when it’s opened by him .’
‘I guess it’s a high fence, right?’ says Lucille, her eyes dulling.
‘Oh yes,’ I say. ‘We are very well protected in here.’
The last Lucille tried to climb the perimeter fence. I’d just dozed off one night when I was woken by screams – the sound of someone in extreme pain. Then there was the sound of Harry thundering down the corridor. I waited in my room, heart thumping, until I heard Harry return.
‘Esther!’ The tone of his voice let me know that this was one of those special circumstances when it was okay to leave my room during the night. I ran down the corridor to find Harry standing in the kitchen holding Lucille, hysterical and covered with blood.
I moved around briskly in my nightgown, grabbing my herbal ointments and making bandages from old sheets while Harry soothingly told the Lucille that everything was fine, everything would be all right.
But everything wasn’t all right. The very next morning, the Lucille’s renewal notification arrived.
‘Do we ever get to go out?’ asks Lucille. I turn and fold up her nightgown – a replacement for the shredded one – so she can’t see my face as I answer.
‘No,’ I say. ‘There’s no need. Only Harry goes out sometimes.’
‘What makes him return?’
It’s startling to hear her voice the exact question I’ve had in my own head so many times. ‘He returns because he belongs here,’ I say, Estherishly. ‘Just like you belong here. Our four souls are intertwined.’
‘Well, I definitely don’t belong in this awful room,’ says Lucille, looking around the tiny, dark space with hatred. ‘When can I go into the rest of the house?’
My heart leaps – she’s never shown the slightest interest in doing this before – but I must be careful not to share how desperately we need her out there.
‘Once you’ve finished your transition,’ I say, firmly. ‘Then and only then.’
Lucille pulls a face. ‘You mean dye my hair, don’t you? And wear those clothes?’
‘That’s part of it.’
‘So once I’ve transitioned, ’ she says, rolling her eyes, ‘then I can go to the
My stomach lurches. The Lucille is far from ready. But time has run out. In desperation I actually consider tying Lucille up while she’s asleep and doing her hair that way. But I know that wouldn’t work. Lucille needs to accept what is happening. She needs to believe in it.
It’s a huge relief when I unlock the changing room the next morning to find Lucille fully dressed and, by the look of her face and hands, clean. Maybe that’s why the message was sent to the followers. Perhaps he sensed a change in the Lucille that we had failed to see.
‘How big is this place?’ she asks. ‘There’s a garden or something isn’t there? Where does it end?’
‘The farm is a few kilometres wide,’ I tell her, putting down her tray of food, which includes some tiny, very sweet strawberries that Felicity proudly presented to me yesterday. The guiding word is growth.
‘Hang on. We’re on a farm?’
I laugh. ‘Didn’t you notice the animals outside on your renewal day?’
The Lucille shakes her head. ‘I don’t remember much at all about getting here. I’m pretty sure that guy drugged me. You know, because for you lot it’s bad to look in a mirror but it’s okay to spike someone’s mango smoothie.’
‘We have chickens and a couple of goats for milking,’ I tell her. ‘We had a cow too, for a while.’ I’m glad she doesn’t ask what happened to the cow. She’d probably never use the soap again if she knew. ‘Harry and Felicity grow all our vegetables and fruit out there too.’
I feel Lucille’s sharp gaze on me. ‘Is there a fence?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘A really solid one with barbed wire on top. Only Harry can go through it, when it’s opened by him .’
‘I guess it’s a high fence, right?’ says Lucille, her eyes dulling.
‘Oh yes,’ I say. ‘We are very well protected in here.’
The last Lucille tried to climb the perimeter fence. I’d just dozed off one night when I was woken by screams – the sound of someone in extreme pain. Then there was the sound of Harry thundering down the corridor. I waited in my room, heart thumping, until I heard Harry return.
‘Esther!’ The tone of his voice let me know that this was one of those special circumstances when it was okay to leave my room during the night. I ran down the corridor to find Harry standing in the kitchen holding Lucille, hysterical and covered with blood.
I moved around briskly in my nightgown, grabbing my herbal ointments and making bandages from old sheets while Harry soothingly told the Lucille that everything was fine, everything would be all right.
But everything wasn’t all right. The very next morning, the Lucille’s renewal notification arrived.
‘Do we ever get to go out?’ asks Lucille. I turn and fold up her nightgown – a replacement for the shredded one – so she can’t see my face as I answer.
‘No,’ I say. ‘There’s no need. Only Harry goes out sometimes.’
‘What makes him return?’
It’s startling to hear her voice the exact question I’ve had in my own head so many times. ‘He returns because he belongs here,’ I say, Estherishly. ‘Just like you belong here. Our four souls are intertwined.’
‘Well, I definitely don’t belong in this awful room,’ says Lucille, looking around the tiny, dark space with hatred. ‘When can I go into the rest of the house?’
My heart leaps – she’s never shown the slightest interest in doing this before – but I must be careful not to share how desperately we need her out there.
‘Once you’ve finished your transition,’ I say, firmly. ‘Then and only then.’
Lucille pulls a face. ‘You mean dye my hair, don’t you? And wear those clothes?’
‘That’s part of it.’
‘So once I’ve transitioned, ’ she says, rolling her eyes, ‘then I can go to the
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