WE KNEW, BUT WE DIDN'T KNOW

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN—PAY NO ATTENTION

 

 

We both ordered muffins and vanilla soya milk and I carried our tray to the first empty table that I spotted. “I was wondering if you’d like to try chicken or seafood. I’m sure I can smuggle something for you at the reception tonight.”

Kathy reflected for a moment before answering, “Sure. Why not? I’m not supposed to, but I don’t see how they’ll find out if we’re careful. And sweets too! Gooey chocolates if possible, anything scrumptious that you can get your hands on.”

Between the two of us, we polished off five oversized muffins and I knew that I could hold out well until suppertime at the hotel. Time dragged that day even with a second visit from Keith and his carer, who looked to be about the same age as his case. The carer, Donald, was about as bland as a clone can be, a classic clone, a textbook clone, a perfect clone: awkward, self-effacing, physically strong and sluggish. I had to control myself not to be rude to him. Everything about him got on my nerves.

A medical team stopped by to inform Keith that he had to undergo some routine tests and Keith and Donald were escorted out of Kathy’s room. It was still early, not even mid-afternoon, but I decided to change back into my evening outfit and dress my hair. The chignon we managed to pull off was a little low and messy, but Kathy assured me that it looked casually elegant. “You must be so excited,” Kathy stated.

“I’m nervous, but I’m too tired to be excited. All this anticipation is making for a very long day. And, in the pit of my stomach, deep now, I feel nothing. It’s a very strange kind of nothing, a premonitory sense of defeat. I mean really, Kath, what’s the point?”

She didn’t answer and we were pretty quiet for the remainder of the afternoon. Finally, it was time to leave. “I’m going to leave my boots here, Kath. They’re too manky to wear. I’ll pick them up tomorrow.”

“But Sunday’s your day off.”

“So what? I’ll want to tell you all about my evening and bring you a doggy bag. I’ll show up some time in the morning. Wish me luck.”

We embraced each other. I was pleased to feel that she had more flesh on her bones, pleased yet uneasy. I had plans for Kathy, and they didn’t involve her succumbing to a completion donation.’

When I reached the lobby, I had to decide whether to hail a taxi or walk to the hotel. I would have preferred to walk, but I was afraid that I would ruin my pretty shoes in slush banks. My stylish coat would keep me warm enough, though, and hailing a taxi was an ordeal for clones. Drivers didn’t necessarily accept us as customers. I chose to walk and my feet did get very wet. By the time I reached the hotel, my shoes were discoloured with sludge, but I instructed my eyes to ignore them.

And then I saw Joe looking so glamorous in his charcoal grey dinner jacket platinum bow tie. He escorted me to the coat check where he wanted me to leave my large, unsightly handbag. “It ruins the goddess effect, Sophie. Trust me, you won’t be needing it.”

“But I want to steal some food for Kathy, my case. Where will I put it.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll figure something out. You look stunning, by the way, simply breathtaking.”

And then it was all awhirl. There were dozens and dozens of beautiful dressed others in a huge, bedazzling reception hall. Chandeliers sparkled. There was a fountain of endlessly cascading champagne in the centre of one table. Other tables displayed ice sculptures of swans, castles and one magnificent unicorn. A group of musicians played their instruments mutedly on a small, circular stage in the middle of the hall. The opulence didn’t strike me as vulgar. I felt as though I had stepped into a scene in a fairy tale. Everything seemed magical and entirely unreal.

Joe grabbed my hand and fairly dragged me over to a knot of excited people. I recognized Conrad and the plump woman dressed in white taffeta, feathers, tulle, lace and sequins must have been his bride, Nancy. She had beautiful black hair and a creamy complexion but to my eyes, she looked absolutely ridiculous, an overstuffed waterfowl. Joe introduced me to her, but she managed nothing more than a thin, strained smile, but Conrad was effusive. “Sophie, you are exquisite. My mate Joe is the luckiest man here!” Nancy’s eyes flashed daggers at her husband, and I wondered why these two had tied the knot with each other. But I didn’t have long to wonder. The musicians broke into a rock number from the 60s and Joe whisked me on to the designated dance floor. I had seen enough music videos to know how to dance freestyle rock without looking completely ludicrous. After two or three dances, I realized with a jolt that for the first time in my life, I was having what was called ‘fun.’ My body seemed to know exactly what it was doing. The music was so excitingly loud that I felt it under my skin.

Then Joe led me to one of the identically adorned round tables. Three couples were already seated. Everyone was middle-aged. Two of the women, wives I was almost certain, were wearing silver dresses, the third was bedecked in gold. Joe introduced me to everyone as his ‘lovely tenant Sophie.’ No one gawked at me, but neither did they try to talk to me, so it was pretty much as though Joe and I were alone, which suited me fine.

It turned out to be a long evening. I drank a lot of wine and chose chicken over steak as my main. The meal dragged on as various courses were served with long gaps between. The food struck me as bland and past its prime, not nearly as tasty as what the Golds and Joe had cooked in their homes. The music was the best part of the evening, the speeches the worst.

When I excused myself to use the ladies’ restroom, I noted my flushed cheeks in the wall-to-wall mirror. I examined my face with as much brutal honesty as I could muster, and my conclusion was surprising. I didn’t look like curdled milk; I looked much more like crème fraiche, a young slightly drunk female with pretty features, smooth skin and bright eyes. I was tipsy and unsure as to why Joe had chosen me to be his date. His behaviour, although gentlemanly, was a tad detached, but that hardly bothered me. Something about his behaviour, however, was making me uneasy but I couldn’t put my finger on it. He wasn’t in a talkative mood, but then again the music was blaring for much of the evening, so I couldn’t fault him for his prolonged spells of silence.

Toward the end of the meal, he told me, “Soon they’ll be wheeling out the sweet tables. I’ll speak to one of the servers about putting together a box for you. I’m quite knackered; otherwise, I would gladly escort you home. Don’t worry, though, I’ll call a taxi for you. You won’t have to walk home in those minimalist dancing slippers.”

When the sweet tables were fully set up, many guests swarmed around them to admire the extravagant platters and bowls. I was among them, and Joe was at my side. I scanned the offerings and told Joe, “I’ll want a lot of cheese with crackers, and the individual chocolates and the cashews and maybe some of those fancy biscuits.” Joe listened attentively. He looked both interested and amused. He snapped his fingers at a server who nodded seriously at what Joe was saying. In a few minutes, Joe placed a fair-sized box tied with a silver ribbon in my hands. “Consider this your surprise box, My Pretty. I’m going to say good night to Conrad and his bride. Meet me in front of the cloakroom.”

I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to say anything to anyone. I was off the hook. I carried my box out of the hall and realised that I was too tired to feel awkward or embarrassed. So what if I was the only clone in the hotel? It didn’t matter a fig. These others, it’s not as though they were immortal or anything. And while the quality of their lives might be a whole lot better than ours, the quality of who they were wasn’t. That belief had registered in my brain during the evening, and I refused to shake it loose.

Joe apologised to me as he helped me into my chocolate coat. “I’m sorry I was boring company, Sophie. The music was giving me a bloody headache. I wasn’t myself. I swear I’ll make it up to you if you’ll give me the chance.”

“Of course, I will. I drank too much, too fast, and that messed me up a little. So you see, I wasn’t exactly sparkling company myself. No worries.”

If I had to choose one word to describe my wedding date with Joe, that word would have to be ‘disappointing.’ And that is what I told Kathy the following day when we had elevenses in the cafeteria. I hadn’t bothered to wash up after sleeping briefly and fitfully on top of my blanket. I hadn’t even managed to remove my stained ballerina flats. I was sure I was going to vomit, but nothing came up. My head was spinning and I had the heave-ho’s, but I could neither heave nor ho and I didn’t know how I was going to navigate my hungover legs to Windmere. Somehow I managed to change into a heavy wool skirt and a green cardigan. I suspected my face was a similar shade to the sweater.

When I presented her with the box of sweets, she untied the ribbon very delicately and exclaimed, “How pretty this is. I’m going to save it for my hair.”

We were still in her room, sitting on her bed when she popped chocolate after chocolate into her mouth, commenting on each one. “Mint. Nice and cool. Cherry. Soft and sweet. Almond. A little hard and bitter. Caramel. Gooey and scrummy.”

“You’re quite the pro. And here I thought you would be tasting the first chocolates in your life.”

“Heavens no. At Hailsham, we were given boxes of chocolates on very special occasions. My favourites were always the caramel.”

Once in the cafeteria, Kathy began questioning me in earnest, but I didn’t have much to say.

“Was the bride beautiful? Did she throw her bouquet?”

“No and I don’t know. She’s not pretty at all, this Nancy girl. She looked like a smashed cupcake. If she threw her bouquet, it would have been after I left.”

“What was the food like?”

“Old and rubbery. It was very disappointing. In fact, pretty much everything about the evening was disappointing. Joe and I hardly spoke to each other and he seemed preoccupied and upset. I think he may have been brooding about his wife.”

“Was there anything lovely about the evening?”

“The banquet hall was beautifully decorated. The main colour was silver. The linen was silver. There were enchanting ice sculptures. And there was one very charming moment.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Early in the evening, soon after we sat down at our table, the bride and groom began dancing. Well, that wasn’t anything to write home about; believe me. Conrad’s tall and dishy and Nancy’s short and squat, so they weren’t exactly eye candy. But midway through the song, what a beautiful song. Its name is on the tip of my tongue. It’s a slow, sad song. Anyway, midway through it, the parents of the bride and groom started to dance. Nancy’s parents were sweet enough, but it was Conrad’s parents that captured my attention. She had silver hair and was wearing a simple silver suit and pumps. Her lips were painted a sweet cherry red. Her husband was as slender as she was, and even taller and they danced beautifully together. They fit perfectly, like the final two pieces in a jigsaw puzzle. It was a pleasure and a pain to watch them.”

“And you weren’t able to get anything out of Joe?”

“Not a thing. As I said, we didn’t say more than a few words to each other the entire evening. I think we’ll be able to sort it out. I’m not worried, at least, not yet.”

“Let’s go back to the room, Sophie. I’d like to offer Keith some nuts and sweets.”

We stopped by Keith’s room and found him sitting on his bed in what I believe is called the lotus position. Kathy laughed, “Meditating, are we? Where did you learn how to do that?”

Keith returned the laughter. “On the meditation channel, of course. I’ve fired Donald, by the way. I’ve requested that he not be replaced. I want to be on my own. I never wanted to be a carer, so why should I willingly have one?”

I was aghast. “But that’s never been done before. Every donor has a carer. That’s strict policy.”

Keith disagreed, “Not any longer. The guidelines manual is being revised as we speak, but with all the budget cuts, the hospitals, recovery centers and hospices are grateful when a donor requests not to have a carer.”

We invited Keith into Kathy’s room for the still fresh wedding reception treats, but he declined. Kathy asked me, “I’m knackered, Sophie. I’m going to tuck myself in for a little nap. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. But Kathy, may I join you. I’d like nothing more than to catch a few winks.”

Kathy patted the mattress as a sign for me to join her, and we adjusted our slight bodies to accommodate each other. Kathy nudged the pillow so that the back of my head could lie on it, but I turned sidewise and put my arms around her. Her hair was fragrant and her inhalations and exhalations were very comforting. I fell into the sweetest sleep of my life. I pretended that we were sisters in a narrow boat adrift in foreign waters, dangerous waters but were safe as long as we clung to each other.

A nurse I hadn’t seen before awoke us kindly. “Sorry, Pets, but Kathy has to have a few samples of blood drawn and then she has a doctor’s appointment. You can wait for her here if you like.”

Kathy protested, “No. Sophie, this is supposed to be your day off. You must have oodles of things to do. Thank you for visiting me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

We kissed each other good-bye. The new nurse seemed to raise an eyebrow, but not maliciously. I felt groggy as I made my way toward the lift. In front of it, there was a scrum of personnel, but they didn’t appear to be waiting for it. They were in a deeply animated discussion, and their voices were raised though apparently not in anger. I tried to make sense of the phrases I could catch:

“Half of us are being made redundant. What could that mean?”

“Rumours, just rumours.”

“I heard there was a lockout at Clanranald and another one at Snowdon. I heard Windmere will be next.”

“You’re off your trolley!”

“How can there be a referendum if we don’t understand what the issues are?”

“Bloody hell! We’d best get a hold of the ombudsman and suss out what’s going on.”

The lift arrived and I stepped inside without being noticed. I had to speak to Joe. I had to ask him some urgent questions. If he pretended not to know what I was talking about, I would break my lease and disappear with the Golds. And I would beg them to allow Kathy to join me. I didn’t exactly have a plan, but neither did I not have one. Betwixt and between. That is what my grotty little life had become.

It had turned into a blustery day. My mouth tasted rancid and my legs were wobbly. I realised that my hangover hadn’t run its course. The charming Christmas trees were now overshadowed by harsh slogans in a cacophony of colours and typesets. Their messages were disquietingly ambiguous. They appeared on shop windows and street posts and overrode all semblance of seasonal cheer:

      

I decided to stop by Joe’s flat. But first, I would use the loo in my new place. The pressure on my bladder had become sharply distracting. I hoped I hadn’t come down with an infection; I was prone to those. As I walked north on St. Luke, I saw the beefy sisters packing items into large cardboard boxes. I found that peculiar considering that it was well past 1 pm.

“Working late today?” I asked them.

“Aye, we laid in this morning, so we put in a few extra hours,” the ‘younger’sister told me. “Would you like to do a little rummaging, dearie?”

“Next time. I’m a little under the weather today; all these clashing signs with mysterious messages are getting to me. Tell me, do you know when they were put up?”

“Sorry, love, I can’t say that I do,” the older sister said. “Pay no attention; that’s my motto. They’ll be taken down and replaced by some other bit of tosh before you know it.” The sisters resumed packing up their flea market merchandise. Their hands and legs were bare, rough and red, and they were both coughing in rasping barks.

WE KNEW, BUT WE DIDN'T KNOW

 

CHAPTER TWELVE—DISAPPEARING ELDERS

 

 

Fat, wet snowflakes were circling and falling as I made my way toward Crinoline Lane. They made the streets look and smell like Christmas. A few shops and homes had their outdoor trees in place, and I enjoyed the variety of colour effects: multicolour, icy blue, deep blue, bold green, golden white and silver white. There was even one tree strung out in pale pink lights, making it look like confection. The closer I got to the Golds’ door, the more malnourished cats I crossed paths with. One of them was particularly frightening. It was a large creature, male, I was certain. Its coat was a lovely tawny colour but it was missing its left eye, and its right ear was almost completely torn off.

I let myself in with the silver key and was surprised to see Lise polishing the counter with a strong lemon-scented oil. She looked up and said, “Thank God you’re here. They’ve both been so worried about you. Henry and I are now the official owners of the store and the flat. They’ll be a lot safer that way, and so will their money.”

“Where are they?” I asked nervously.

“I’ll take you to them now.” Lise pulled down oilcloth blinds over the dusty store-front windows and double-locked the door. She turned off the lights and motioned me to follow her. My second impression of her was that she was more attractive than I had first thought. She was tall and slender, and she had long, thick honey-coloured hair. Her features were too sharp for prettiness, but her eyes were clear and bright. Her skin, however, looked aged and dull. She could have been a young-looking sixty or an old-looking forty. I couldn’t tell.

I followed her up the back stairway, but we passed through the Gold’s apartment, all the way to a small sitting room at the end of the flat. The room was wall-papered with creamy-pink tea-roses on a Wedgewood blue background. I watched in amazement as Lise slid open a wall-panel. We stepped through the opening, and she slid the panel back into place. The wallpaper pattern had cunningly camouflaged the moving panel. She reached overhead in darkness and I could hear the click of a pulled chain. An overhead bulb gave as sufficient light to continue toward two steps leading up to a squat door. She rapped on the door gently with her knuckles and Mr. Gold opened it.

He looked so old and frail! “Ah, Sophie, welcome to our new home. It's small but it has all the amenities.” Hannah Gold was sitting in a turquoise velvet armchair. If anything, she looked even more despondent than her brother. She managed to smile at me and said, “This is a real case, not an imaginary example of déjà vu.”

Mr. Gold went over to where his sister was seated and tried to comfort her. He touched her cheek gently and murmured, “There, there, Hannah. We’re simply being cautious. I can assure you that the British government is neither as thorough nor as malicious as the Gestapo. It will all blow over, either that, or there’ll be a public outcry.”

Thinking it would calm the Golds, I told them about the new dual-residency apartment building where I’d soon be living. “So you see, if the place is well run and if I’m happy there, I was hoping both of you could rent an apartment in the same building. I think I trust the co-owner; in fact, I’ll be seeing him socially tomorrow night.”

While I was talking, Lise carried a plate of tiny sandwiches, party sandwiches, into the sitting room and placed it on a small round table next to where Mrs. Gold was sitting. She then crossed her arms over her flat stomach and said, “For now, this is best. We wait and we watch. Henry and I have the transfer of deeds documents to show any inspectors. The story is that the Golds went to London and we haven’t heard a word from them. They stay in hiding until the new policies become apparent. If the situation proves to be as dangerous as we fear, they remain here. Sophie, you can be their breath of fresh air, and our eyes, ears and nose as well.”

The Golds and I were nibbling on delicately flavoured chopped egg and tuna sandwiches. To lighten the mood I told them about my date with Joe the following evening. Hannah’s face brightened, but Lise looked concerned. She asked, “Are you sure it’s safe for you to attend the reception?”

“I think it is; I hope it is. But it’s something I’m going to do regardless. I’m hungry to see up close how others, the others, live.”

Hannah asked, “Is that what you call us among yourselves — the others?”

“We call you either regulars or the others. Sometimes we use the term real people. And what do you refer to us as, other than clones, I mean.”

Lise answered without missing a beat. “Oh, there are many words, many terms, depending on the attitude and the context.”

“Could you give me a few examples, please?”

Franz began: “We often say euphemistically, service workers, helpers, providers, suppliers, medical volunteers.”

Lise continued, “Then there are the blunter appellations: drones, servants, slaves.”

Hannah added, “unfortunates.”

I was wincing but managed to ask, “Anything more derogatory? Slangy?”

Lise volunteered, “Disposables, Bits and Pieces, Parts and Parcels, Odds and Ends, Stupids, Zombies.”

“Zombies! Why Zombies?” I sputtered.

For the first time, Lise looked extremely uncomfortable and answered haltingly. “I suppose it’s because you tend to lack inflection and expression. Your voices are usually monotonous and your faces inscrutable. And the way you walk, slowly and mechanically. Sorry.”

“And me?” I pursued the topic. “Am I like that?”

The silence in the room gave me the answer. I felt humiliated but not shocked. “I’m trying to change, mostly to see if I can, if it’s possible. So I appreciate your candour. It must not have been easy. Thank you.”

As though a signal had been switched, we changed topics, and Mrs. Gold asked me, “And what will you be wearing to this ball of yours tomorrow night?”

I considered the truth to be a little complicated, so I kept my answer simple. “A pink dress, but I have a favour to ask.”

“Please do,” Mrs. Gold urged me kindly.

“I only have one warm coat, the one I’m wearing. I was hoping you might be able to lend me something more suitable.”

“With pleasure!” Mrs. Gold’s careworn face lit up. “Come; follow me.” She rose with a groan and led the way into a room behind the sitting room. I expected it to be a bedroom, but it was a wooden walk-in wardrobe and it smelled marvellous.

“What’s that wonderful smell?”

“That’s cedar. It calms me merely to inhale it. I’m sure I have something in here that will fit you, more or less. Well, not less, but more because I was never as lithe as you are.” Mrs. Gold walked into the exquisitely scented chamber and began to push hangers vigorously. “No,” she pronounced talking to one hanging item after another. “No and no and no.” With each ‘no,’ she yanked a hanging item to the left. I was temporarily distracted by a number of  hat and shoe boxes stacked neatly on a shelf above the crowded garments. They were arranged according to shape and size, three column of round, rectangular and square boxes in a luxuriant variety of colours and patterns. They were beautiful.

“This one, yes.” Mrs. Gold stepped out of the closet dragging a cellophane-covered coat behind her. She lifted the transparent wrapping and asked me, “What do you say? Do you like it? Do you want to try it on?”

“Yes, please. It looks stunning.” It was a simple chocolate brown velvet coat with a vivid pink lining. The buttons were shaped to resemble roses. Mrs. Gold removed the coat from the sturdy wooden hanger and handed it over to me. “If it fits you, I want you to keep it. I have no use for it now. It’s a lovely quality. Vintage from the early 1960s. Clothes were so pretty then. At least, I think so.”

I had never owned such a magnificent garment. The lining felt like silk and the velvet was thick and smooth and luscious. It hit just above my knees and the arms exposed the wrists, but on the whole, it was a good fit and I loved it. “I love it, Mrs. Gold, but I can’t keep it. It’s yours, but I’d be thrilled to wear it to the reception tomorrow night. In fact, I don’t think I’ll want to take it off. I’ll pretend to feel chilled and wear it the whole time.”

“I wish we had a full-length mirror here, but we don’t. Let my eyes be your mirror. You look beautiful. Your hair is as rich and thick and dark as the velvet. You look like a long cup of velvet coffee!”

We all laughed, even Lise, who certainly didn’t seem to have a sunny disposition. Mrs. Gold continued speaking, “Why don’t you wear it home? This other coat, the one you wear, it’s finished, isn’t it? As they say, ‘it’s seen better days.’ Just leave it here. Lise is a talented seamstress. She can work miracles with distressed fabrics.”

I was afraid of what Lise would say, being volunteered like that, but she was smiling. “I’d be happy to restore your coat, Sophie. I have a few ideas about what I can do with it: new buttons and a new lining for starters.”

“Thank you; that’s very kind of you, but Mrs. Gold, I wouldn’t feel right keeping your coat. Please understand.”

Mrs. Gold took my hand. “Child, there is so much I want to say to you, so much. I hope we will have many, many occasions to talk. Believe me when I tell you that it would be my pleasure. We talk about things around us as though we own them, but we don’t really. We really don’t. Many of these things we lose or break or discard and they’re gone.” She snapped her fingers sharply, “just like that.” Other things don’t leave; they stay. But we don’t stay. We die and then what becomes of our things? We never find out, do we? So you see, they aren’t truly ours, not ever. We just live with them until we don’t. One way or another, there is a permanent separation.”

I understood exactly what she meant. Lise, Mrs. Gold and I stood close together. It was only when Mr. Gold came into view that I realised he had been missing. “Hannah will not outdo me, at least I hope she won’t. I have something for you too.” He held out a honey-toned star-shaped pendant on a gold chain. “It’s a topaz,” he told me. “And the chain is 18 karat gold. Let me fasten it for you. Maybe you should take the coat off first.”

I slipped out of the coat. Lise held it for me. Mr. Gold secured the clasp easily. I looked down. The star-shaped gemstone was quite large, but the colour was so soft and discreet that the effect was amazing. “This is going to be my lucky charm.”

“Your talisman,” he said. I wanted so badly to hug Mr. and Mrs. Gold, hold them tight, tell them that I loved them, but my throat was locked. “I have family,” I thought to myself.” I have a sister and I have grandparents.” I looked at Lise who was holding the coat out to me. “I even have an aunt.”

Before going downstairs with Lise, I promised Mr. and Mrs. Gold that I wouldn’t say anything to Joe about them. I would be tight-lipped. At the storefront door, Lise rook my hands in her large, capable-looking ones. “Not a word now. I fear for their safety. Seniors have been forcibly relocated to elder residences. We must protect them.” I nodded my head forcefully. She looked a little less anxious and said, “I will have your coat ready in a few days. I’ll put in a warm lining. It will serve you well this winter.” She didn’t embrace me, but her eyes were shiny and kind.

As soon as I shut the door behind me, the stink of sick cats invaded my nostrils. I reproached myself for not asking Lise about them. Just a few houses down the lane, a dead cat lay beside a gutter. Its mouth was open in what looked like a silent scream; its bared teeth looked like needles made of bone. I shuddered and increased my pace to a jog. If the cat populace was dropping dead from disease, I hoped it wasn’t contagious to us — and to humans.

The first thing I did when I reached my apartment was take a bath in my stained but scrubbed tub. It felt as though diseased cat stench had seeped into my pores and bloodstream. I so wanted to have a good night’s sleep and awaken refreshed and dewy-skinned for my big day, but the horrific cat mystery kept my senses alert and troubled. I was also worried that Rosemary might not show up with the promised dress and shoes. My backup plan was to borrow one of Kathy’s newfound dresses; either the red or white might do nicely. Of course, Kathy was thinner than I was, but even if they hugged my curves that would be all right, I hoped.

The zapping door buzzer jolted me awake. I was aware of a very uncomfortable pressure in my colon as I went to open the door. I hoped Rosemary wouldn’t want to chat because I had to go the bathroom really, really badly. Joe was correct in judging Rosemary and me to have similar morphologies. She handed me a large black and white striped shopping bag and said, “I have to run. Today’s my errands and messages day. The shoe box is inside the bag. If there’s a problem, call Joe, eh? You have his number?”

“Yes, I do. Thank you for going to all this trouble on my behalf.”

Rosemary smiled warmly. She was a plain girl, but she was smartly dressed and she had a head of luxuriant honey-blonde hair. “Truth be told, I did it for Joe. After all, he is my boss and a kind one at that. I’m sure you’ll look smashing. As soon as I saw the frock, I fell in love with it. I hope you do too.”

As much as I wanted to see the dress, I couldn’t ignore my bowels. Since I had begun eating beef and chicken, my movements were so much thicker and heavier. For the first time in my life, emptying my bowels was a serious undertaking. It was quite embarrassing, and of course, there was no one I could discuss this with, compare notes, so to speak. Even more mortifying, was my curiosity with my feces. I couldn’t get over their density and girth. After wiping my bum and flushing the toilet, I felt so good, so light, so relieved. It was quite a revelation of what dietary changes can effect.

I was, therefore, in a very pleasant mood when I picked up the elegant bag and brought it over to my unmade bed. The shoe box was on top and I set it aside. I then removed crinkled sheets of black, gold and white tissue paper. I lifted the dress. It wasn’t exactly pink. It was nude, just a few shades pinker than my skin. It looked like silk and it was very light and simple: strapless, empire-waisted, A-line, knee length with a rosy lining. Impetuously, I stuffed it back into the bag and decided to wait until Kathy was my audience. It was an experience I wanted to share with her.

I grabbed my cosmetics case, dressed hastily in a scruffy wool smock and practically ran all the way to Windmere. The images of the sickly cats appeared inside my head. I wondered about them. Surely they weren’t all sick. If that were the case, the sidewalks would be littered with feline corpses. Perhaps I could rescue one, a healthy one, a kitten and ask Joe if it could live in my flat. But even if I could catch a kitten, a seemingly healthy one, how could I be sure it wasn’t incubating a dreadful disease, one that was communicable to clones and people?

Kathy was not alone when I arrived. I recognized the youth sitting alongside her in bed. They were positioned just like people side by side on a bus. He looked up at me and I realised that he was awfully young. I couldn’t contain my surprise.

“How on earth can you already be a donor?” I blurted.

Kathy, gracious as always, reminded me of my manners. “Keith, this is my carer, Kathy.”

I lopped over to the bed and clumsily shook Keith’s hand. I was overcome with indignation. “He’s just a lad,” I thought to myself. “How dare they begin their bloody harvesting of him!”

Keith explained laconically, “I hated being a carer. It depressed the crap out of me. After a week of it, I felt like I was going to do myself in, so I thought, ‘why put myself through this? Why not just put myself on the donor list and be done with the other rubbish? And luck was with me, wasn’t it? I met Kathy, didn’t I?” Keith looked at her adoringly.

“How old are you then?” I wanted to know.

“Nineteen, but I feel like ninety. I’m ready for whatever. I really am.”

“You’re just a nipper. It doesn’t seem right.”

But Keith refused to catch my glum mood. “Right then, you two lovelies must have a lot to talk about, so I’ll leave you to it.” Keith jumped off the bed and kissed Kathy on her forehead. “You smell beautiful,” he told her. “Like roses and rain.”

After he left, I exclaimed, “He certainly fancies you, but it’s so sad, isn’t it?” Kathy sighed jaggedly. Her breathing didn’t seem to be quite right. “It is and it isn’t. Perspective is everything, Sophie.”

“I suppose it is. He certainly doesn’t seem down in the mouth.”

“He’s relieved. He says that being a donor is much nicer than being a carer. He gets to sleep as much as he wants to and he doesn’t have to be bothered looking after a seedy flat. He likes it here.” Kathy noticed my cocoa coat. “That’s a smashing coat, Sophie, and what’s hiding in that hoity-toity bag of yours?”

“My dress and shoes, for tonight. I haven’t tried them on yet. In fact, I haven’t even peeped at the shoes. Shall I model them for you? Would you like that? Would that be all right?”

“That would be divine! And then we can figure out a hairstyle for you.”

I folded my coat over the back of Kathy’s one chair, and pulled the nasty smock over my head. I was wearing my best stockings, quite sheer and unladdered. I removed my bra seeing as the dress was strapless. When Kathy saw my dress, she purred. Rosemary proved to be a brilliant shopper. The dress fit beautifully. It was a tiny bit loose, but that meant I could eat to my heart’s content later that evening.

“How pretty!” Kathy exclaimed. “Let’s see the shoes.”

The shoes were something of a disappointment. I had been hoping for glamourous stilettos even though I had no idea how to walk in a pair of those, but nestled inside the pink box were an equally pink pair of ballerina flats. Leather!

“They’ll be perfect. You’ll be so comfortable in them if they fit. You’ll be able to dance all night.”

They did fit. “I wish I could see myself in a full-length mirror to get the entire effect. Everything fits comfortably, though.”

“You look beautiful, Sophie. And sexy, but in a tasteful way. You have a gorgeous shape. And that pendant. I suppose it’s from the Golds’. It’s spectacular, but understated. You look very, very classy.” Kathy was hugging her knees.

“I want to wear my hair swept up, Kath. And I want you to paint cat eyes with my eyeliner. The lipstick that you gave me should be a perfect shade. But before we get into all of that, let’s go to the cafeteria. I’m famished.” I changed back into my ratty smock and said impulsively, “I really would like you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Gold, and their niece, Lise. She’s not actually their niece, but she’s like one to them. They’re good people, kind people. They suffered a lot in Germany during the Second World War. They lived in fear, in hiding until the Liberation, and now, it would seem that the elderly are in some kind of peril. I don’t really understand what it’s about, so I’m going to ask Joe.

Kathy’s face and voice became tense. “Don’t tell him about them, Sophie. Don’t mention them specifically. Be careful. I’ve noticed changes at Windmere concerning older staff. I’ve been seeing fewer of the senior nurses and doctors around. There was one jocular surgeon. He must have been over 70. He used to pop his head in at least once a day. In fact, you’ve seen him in my room. Well, I hadn’t seen him for about a week, so the other day, I asked a nurse about him. She looked grim when she stammered, ‘Dr. Molsely’s been transferred. We’ll not see him here again.’ The way she said it, Sophie. It sounded, oh, I don’t know. It sounded quite ominous.”

On our way to the cafeteria, we invited Keith to join us. He rolled his eyes comically, “I wish I could, but I can’t. My carer’s supposed to show up any minute now, and I don’t want him to have to go chasing after me. I’m his first assignment, so I’d like make a good impression.”

“Next time, then,” I said and Keith smiled beatifically. “He’s quite the cool customer, isn’t he?” I asked Kathy.

“That he is. I’d like to know more about where he boarded. It’s a place called Tristan Academy. Have you heard of it?”

“I think so, but I don’t recall whether I’ve heard good or bad things about it. I’ll try to remember to ask around although lately my memory’s been shot full of holes.”

“That’s understandable. You’ve a lot going on, what with me, the Golds, Joe, your new flat. I dare say your life’s become rather exciting.”

There was no envy in Kathy’s tone. She was either at peace with or resigned to her situation. Suddenly she grimaced, uttered, “Oh no!” and stopped walking. Her mouth opened and I knew what was going to happen, but there was no time for me to be of assistance. She folded her arms over her chest, leaned forward and sneezed three times in succession.”

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

She smiled wanly. “I think I’m okay. It barely hurts. That was a close call.” Kathy’s stitches had been removed, but her wound was still tender. She began walking again although at a more cautious pace, but told me brightly. “Oh, I almost forgot to mention this. My main doctor told me that I can use the swimming pool next week if my carer accompanies me. A nurse dropped off two swimsuits. They’re in my locker. They’re both equally ugly, so we don’t have to argue about who gets the nicer one.”

On the third floor, in the elevator and the cafeteria, there did seem to be fewer elderly personnel. I asked Kathy for confirmation, but she said, “It’s hard to say. It’s not as though I go out of my way to notice old people. Honestly, they’re kind of invisible to me.”

I found that interesting inasmuch as I felt different. Knowing that I would never grow old, I’d had a fascination with elderly faces and bodies ever since I was a child. I found them neither beautiful nor ugly — just old, in the same way that an apple gets old, shrunken, withered and wrinkled.

WE KNEW, BUT WE DIDN'T KNOW

 

 

  CHAPTER ELEVEN—A WEDDING INVITATION

 

 

I had no idea what to expect when I got home. Would Lucy have moved out? She had very few possessions, so that could be accomplished in one mini-move. I reminded myself to contact a mini-mover company as soon as I knew when my moving day would be. I would be that at my supervisors’ office when I did all the necessary paperwork; that is, of course, if Joe could get my application approved.

Lucy wasn’t home and neither had she left a note for me. The flat smelled nice, grilled cheese sandwiches and chips. As I filled the bathtub, I brooded about my lethargy. I realised it was fairly mild, but it was an almost constant company. And then I thought of Eleanor again and how unlike the rest of us she was. She had been so vibrant — in colouring and personality. I thought about my drabness, our drabness. For the first time, it occurred to me that it might be a by-product of our programmed lifestyles and the void where people, the others, placed their hopes for the future. We clones were almost certainly collectively depressed, so why weren’t anti-depressants routinely prescribed for the lot of us?

During my soak in the tub, I thought about those cats. They weren’t exactly diseased-looking, but they were awfully scrawny and unappealing. I tried to recall if there was a rule in the handbook about clones being allowed to own pets. To the best of my knowledge, no one I knew ever had, but I couldn’t remember a regulation against it. Certain rules were tattooed into my memory:

·       Clones are not allowed to smoke.

·       Clones are not allowed to purchase, own, trade, sell or drink any alcoholic beverage above 2˚.

·       Clones are strictly forbidden to eat meat or fish of any kind.

·       Clones are not permitted to own home phones.

·       Clones are not permitted to have intimate relations with non-clones.

·       Clones’ residences must be approved by their supervisors or any committee with authority over clone management.

·       Clones must report for medical examinations and submit medical certificates to their supervisors on a quarterly basis.

 

There were many more rules, pages and pages of them. The handbook was reissued every two years or so, and I realised that a new handbook hadn’t been distributed for more than three years. What could that mean?

I was also half-expecting to feel ill after eating morsels of chicken and chunks of beef, but I didn’t feel in the least bit off. My languid bath really relaxed me. I fell into a sweet sleep almost immediately afterward and didn’t awaken once during that long November night.

The next few days were wonderfully uneventful. Kathy’s recovery seemed to be an actual event rather than a fervent wish on my part. She had begun dressing and undressing herself and walking on her own. Her appetite was excellent and she was intrigued when I told her about the chicken soup and the stew.

“What does meat taste like, Sophie? Do chicken and beef have a similar flavour or are they very different?”

“Golly, Kath. It’s really hard to describe the taste of things. The chicken soup was lovely. The pieces of chicken floating around were kind of like threads. I would describe the taste as pleasant but bland, kind of like soft, tender cheese. The beef had a stronger, deeper, fuller taste. It was also very nice. It didn’t taste at all the way I imagined animal would. Sorry, I can’t do better. I don’t have the vocabulary, but when you’re stronger, I’ll take you with me to visit the Golds, and you’ll be able to taste what I’m trying so unsuccessfully to describe.”

Kathy smiled. “I wonder what Joe is going to cook for you? I have a feeling it will be sea fruits; I mean to say seafood.”

“What makes you think that?”

“That stuff is supposed to be romantic, isn’t it? Caviar, oysters, lobsters, all that expensive sea stuff.”

Kathy’s mentioning the sea reminded me of the boat that she had visited with Tommy and Ruth. The boat had become quite a landmark for carers and donors alike, but that ended just before I became a carer. It had been disassembled before I had a chance to see it although I had never understood why it was such a big deal. I wanted to ask Kathy about it, but I was afraid of causing her unhappiness. I wanted to give her new memories: Crinoline Lane and the crazy little flea market in the lane off St. Luke Street. I didn’t tell her about the key, though. I felt superstitious about it, as though mentioning it would jinx it in some way. I suppose I thought that my having it was too good to be true. And I decided that I wouldn’t visit the Golds again until Friday, after my date with Joe. I knew that they wanted to help me, but what if it could be the other way around? If they had to lose their shop, their home, maybe they could move into Joe’s building. Maybe we could be neighbours and part of this new project that Joe seemed to be a part of.

By the time Thursday arrived, I was so jittery I couldn’t concentrate. Kathy and I were giggling like schoolgirls during our entire time together. She wanted me to use her curling iron, and I did, but I didn’t like the results.

“I don’t know, Kath. I don’t think it looks good. I think curly hair makes my face look a little ugly.”

She burst into robust laughter. “No! That’s not true at all. You look sexy. You look like one of those models on the covers of fashion magazines.”

I was dubious. “What if he doesn’t recognize me? I think I should look pretty much the same way I looked when he met me, only better. I’ll wear more makeup and better clothes, but a different hairstyle could put him off.”

“Why don’t you go through my makeup case?” Kathy asked. “Perhaps there’s something there you’d like to borrow. I’ve got a few high-end lipsticks that I managed to get via grey market. Actually, I’d for you to take one and keep it if any appeal to you. You’ve been so generous and so kind to me.”

Kathy’s cosmetics case was on her nightstand. I unzipped it and several tubes, sticks and pots tumbled onto her bed. She picked up a bullet-shaped silver container. “Try this one,” she instructed. “It’s quite pretty.”

I removed the round sheathe and twisted the bottom of the bullet upward. The grape-coloured head reminded me of glycerine soap. “I think it’s too dark, Kathy. I don’t like bruised-looking lips.”

“You’ll be surprised,” she countered. “It looks much darker than it actually is. Just try it.” I did. She was right. She held up a small, smeared mirror the size of my chin and mouth and my lips were flushed a natural rosy shade. “It’s brilliant, Kath.”

“It’s a Clinique; at least, I think it is. One of my cases gave it to me about three years ago. And now it’s yours, a very small token of my appreciation.”

“Thanks, Kathy.” I began returning the cosmetics into the grimy red plastic case. They comprised quite a collection, far larger than my own.

“I want you keep it all, Sophie. I don’t need makeup. If I recover, and maybe I will, I’ll begin anew, start fresh, create a whole new look for myself.”

“This is quite a treasure for me, Kath. Thank you. What’s old for you, is new for me. I’ll scout around for you. I’ll get you a new case too. It’ll be our special project, one of our many special projects.”

I stuffed the bulging case into my beige polyurethane handbag, and pressed my lips firmly together to make sure that the lip stain or gel or tint was evenly distributed. It was a very nippy day, too cold to spend time on the balcony, so we decided to walk to the waiting room and buy a snack from one of the vending machines. The third floor was quiet. I noticed a new patient in the bed where the hapless girl donor had been. This patient was a male and he was alone; perhaps he had not yet been assigned to a carer.

“Would you like to introduce yourself to the new donor across the hall?” I thought it might be nice for Kathy to have a conversation partner.

“Perhaps another time. Today I want to be happy and focus on your evening — your date. Golly! Just the word “date” gives me gooseflesh.” We locked arms. Kathy was walking well, almost briskly and her posture was good.

“You look very pretty, Kathy. It’s hard to believe that you’re over 30.” At that precise moment, a stout nurse met up with us although walking in the other direction. She tossed us a very sour look and we stifled our laughter. I had seen that senior nurse very often since beginning my stint with Kathy at Windmere. She was beyond middle age with very saggy skin on her face, neck and arms. When Kathy and I were in the privacy of the waiting room, I said, “That nurse has the loosest skin I’ve ever seen. My Mrs. Gold is certainly older than her, but her skin isn’t so ruined.”

“I suppose the tug of gravity affects people to different degrees. That’s one thing we’ll never have to worry about.” We were idling in front of the vending machines. I asked, “Do you see anything you fancy? My treat.” We both studied the compartments behind the glass case. There was the usual assortment of cheese sandwiches, egg sandwiches, oatmeal and raisin biscuits, peanut butter biscuits, jelly cups, chocolate and caramel pudding cups. Kathy sighed. “This stuff is so repetitive, so boring. Why don’t they sell muffins in the machines? That’s what I’d really like, a big, fat whatever kind of muffin.”

“Let’s go down to the cafeteria in that case. I’m sure you’re strong enough.”

“That would be splendid, almost like going downtown. I enjoyed studying geography at Hailsham. It was very exciting to learn about so many countries where people had their own languages and customs. Now my notions of geography have shrunk to the size of a Donor Hospital.”

The cafeteria was the hub of Windmere even though it was situated in its bowels. It was the only area where clones and regulars were thrown together without any restrictions.

Kathy selected two obese muffins, a double chocolate and a cranberry-orange, and we made our way toward a small empty table near a window. After a minute of picking morsels to eat out of her chocolate muffin, Kathy said, “Seeing that wrinkly old nurse reminded me of a thought I had not so long ago. I used to think about old age a lot, you know, wondering what it would be like. At any rate, there have always been medical anomalies, atypical symptoms and the like. So what do you suppose, Sophie? Do you think an old person’s skin has ever sagged upward, in the wrong direction?”

I burst into laughter. “What a peculiar thought, Kath! Whatever made you imagine that?”

“I don’t know. I just did.”

“I think that would be impossible. That would defy the law of gravity.”

“But in nature, aren’t laws constantly being broken? And what is a medical miracle if not that?”

“I hardly think that reverse gravity could be considered a medical miracle. I’m trying to visualise it, and it’s a freakish sight.”

“But there are many freaks in nature, Sophie. Tell me, do you find old people ugly?”

“Not at all, at least not collectively. Some are very beautiful, and others are ugly, but most are ordinary, average, like the rest of us. I do have a fantasy, though, about the elderly.

“Tell me what it is.”

“Oh, it’s that they’re kind and wise, all of them. Of course, I know that’s not true. Some of them are, and others aren’t, but I like to imagine that they all are. Otherwise — ”

“Otherwise what, Kathy?”

“Otherwise, what’s the point of getting old?”

I had no ready answer for that, so we sat in silence for a while, watching people and clones, young, old, middle-aged, carers and donors and personnel, all going about their routines as though the social order made sense and the regulations weren’t being bent and broken all over the place.

It was almost 5 pm when I got home. I had bid Kathy a hurried and nervous farewell, but she looked the portrait of confidence. “It’ll be smashing, Sophie. Try to have fun and failing that, get some information about anything you can. But don’t be too obvious. And whatever you do, don’t say too much. Let him do the bulk of the talking. It’ll be safer for you, and for me, that way.”

I brushed my teeth at length and reapplied the glycerine-like lip tint. Then I painted two thin black lines as close to my eyelash lines as my limited skill permitted. I chose an oatmeal coloured sweater dress that was slightly tight, low-cut and short. It was almost the same shade as my well-worn tights and my polyurethane boots were a good height for the dress. On went the shabby pea coat, and I was out the door. I had the first month’s rent wad of bills stuffed in my plastic wallet. The wind was kicking quite ferociously, and that was a good thing inasmuch as it took my mind off my nervousness. But when I reached 329 St. Luc, my hands began to shake; my legs felt weak. My throat was dry. I was an utter wreck. I forced myself to ring the doorbell, and Joe opened the door almost immediately. He laughed, “I confess. I’ve been waiting for you in the foyer for at least thirty minutes. I was too excited to stay in my flat.”

Joe looked handsomer than how I’d remembered him. He had two deep dimples on either side of his shapely lips. Somehow I hadn’t noticed them when I first met him. It’s very peculiar how selectively visual memory functions. I wondered who he’d inherited them from: his mum or his dad?

“May I come in?” I asked. Joe was blocking the entrance as though he wanted to send me away.” Oh God, yes, Please do. How rude of me! See how nervous I am? It’s ridiculous, a man my age.”

“It’s awfully windy out there. I thought of putting rocks in my coat pockets.” I followed Joe up one short flight of stairs. The door to apartment 11 was partly open, and heavenly scents wafted into the hallway. I couldn’t identify the aromas, but they were pleasantly familiar.

“Let me take your coat,” Princess. I shrugged out of my worn coat and allowed myself to luxuriate in the warm fragrance of Joe’s flat. It was modern and austerely furnished, yet it reminded me of the Golds’ home. I’d never lived in a flat that was properly heated, or maybe it was the odour of cooking meat that made these places smell so different from anywhere I had been a tenant. I took in my surroundings as thoroughly as I could. A very large living room was to my right. The walls were a colour between beige and ivory. I don’t know the name of that colour. The large couch was dark green leather and the area rug was deep brown with a coral and green geometric pattern. There was a long, narrow glass coffee table in front of the couch. A familiar pop song was playing on a CD player. I owned a cassette recorder, but I’d heard that CDs had a better sound than cassettes. My ears, however, weren’t sufficiently trained to tell the difference. Beside the CD player, on a small metal corner stand, was a high stack of CDs, which reminded me of a colourful high-rise building.

“I’m going to bring you a delicious drink if that’s all right with you,” Joe said with a questioning tone. “Yes, thank you. That would be lovely.”

“Sit down or look around, whichever you prefer. I won’t be long.” I elected to sit down, and I placed my handbag on the floor. It looked forlorn and shabby, but I thought it would ridiculous atop the elegant glass table. The music made my limbs restless. “She drives me crazy.” I liked those lyrics a lot. Imagine having the power to drive a bloke crazy! If only I could drive Joe crazy I might be able to step out of my squalid little life and into a breathtakingly glamourous one, but wait, no. No, not a glamourous life but a safe one. That’s what I wanted, a safe life, one that wouldn’t be restricted to hospitals and recovery centres until I completed quietly by my 30^th birthday. “Slow down, Sophie,” I admonished myself. “Don’t get carried away. This is a first date, if you can even call it that. It’s more like a lease-signing dinner date. And make sure you sign the lease before you have that drink. No lease, no drink. It’s back to square one, but at least I have the Golds. If I can’t help them, perhaps they can help me.”

Joe returned carrying two glasses containing a dark red liquid. “It’s Vermouth,” he told me. “Sorry, I don’t have any ice-cubes or lime slices to serve with it.” He handed me one glass and then clinked it with his own. “To you,” he said. “To us.”

I took a sip. It was cold and bittersweet. “It’s an aperitif wine. It’s supposed to open one’s appetite,” Joe informed me.

“I think it’s working because I just realize how hungry I am.” Joe laughed. “Excellent. I was hoping you would be. Shall we take care of business first?”

I felt tremendous relief. All would be well! “You can sign the lease and move in whenever you like. You’ll only have to pay rent as of the first of January. That gives you a fair amount of wiggle room in case you have to sublet your flat.”

“No, it doesn’t work like that. We just have to inform our supervisors that we’re moving and get their approval. As long as we’re paid up for the month we can move out on any day of that month. They just need to know where we’re residing at all times. So I take it that my supervisors approved the application?”

“Piece of cake. I spoke to Vera Sanders. She said some very complimentary things about you.”

“Really?” I was taken aback. Mrs. Sanders had never been particularly nice to me even though she’d known me since my carer training programme, seven years ago. It’s true that she graded me a Class A Carer, but truth be told, I deserved that classification. I’d always been obedient and diligent, never any backtalk from me.

“Yes. She said you were a clever girl, and that you had a heart. I’ll get the lease and we can both sign it right now. As for the first month’s rent, I don’t absolutely need it today; any time before the first of the month will be fine.”

But I was anxious to get the paperwork over with and hoping to get my copy of the key. Joe left the room briefly and returned with two copies of the lease. He signed his name with a flourish. He looked pensively at my signature. “What are you looking at? Does my lack of a proper surname disturb you?”

“Not in the least, but I admit I’m curious about your given name. Do you know who gave it to you? With us, it’s usually the birth mother.”

“I really don’t know. I’ve always assumed it was someone who worked in the lab. I doubt that it’s a regular job — naming baby clones. Perhaps we’re pre-named.” I bent to lift my handbag from the floor.

“You know, I heard it’s bad luck to leave your purse on the floor.”

“Bad luck how? In what sense?”

“That your money will leave you.”

“I never heard of that superstition. Here you go.” I passed Joe an envelope containing exactly 350 quid. He didn’t open it to count the money. I found that omission endearing. He then fished in his left trouser pocket and handed me a gold-coloured key. It occurred to me that I ought to buy a keychain for my two new keys. I was pleased that I would be easily able to tell them apart.

Then Joe moved close to me and swooped in for the kiss. His lips tasted nice. The kiss itself was somewhat cool. I got the impression he was curious and that he had never kissed one of us before.  I don’t know what overcame me, but out of the blue, I feigned intense passion. I opened my mouth, more or less forcing him to do likewise and I moaned softly. His kiss became more insistent, but then he pulled away abruptly. “Supper should be ready by now. Bring your glass into the kitchen, and keep me company while I serve us.”

The kitchen surprised me. For one thing, the counter tops were pink, and then there were the considerable number of orchids in brightly coloured pots. It was also unusually clean and orderly. “We’re going spicy tonight, not Indian spicy but Mexican hot. Tacos filled with beef. I’ve thrown in Jalapeno and Serrano peppers to add bite. All I have to do now is heat up a few tortilla shells.”

I sat down on one of the two transparent Lucite chairs and admired the trays of grated orange cheese, multi-coloured sweet peppers and lettuce. There was a bottle of rose-coloured wine on the small, round table. I smiled up at a wall clock designed to resemble an Oreo biscuit with a bite taken out of it. The table was set with white dinner plates, surprisingly ornate cutlery and deep pink cloth napkins.

“I like your orchid collection.”

“Orchids are great, costly yes, but the blossoms last a very long time and I find the markings intriguing.”

Joe was multitasking, sipping his Vermouth heating up the corn-flour taco shells and chatting with me. He looked perfectly relaxed. “I suppose you’ll want to have another look at apartment 17 before you leave.”

“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. I’ve so few possessions that arranging them won’t be a problem whatsoever. I’m hoping to find a few treasures at the sisters’ flea market. Have you bought anything there?”

“Good God, no! Heaven knows where that stuff comes from. People tell me I’m overly fastidious.”

I felt myself blushing. He couldn’t be all that fastidious or he wouldn’t be spending his time with the likes of me. “Yet you’re not squeamish about making supper for a clone,” I stated flatly.

“I don’t see you as a clone. I see you as a beautiful young woman who landed on my doorstep, a wounded bird.”

Joe brought a plate with a stack of golden tortillas over to the table. “Let me demonstrate how this is done.”

He spooned a small quantity of meat into the centre of the corn flour shell, added the grated cheese, then the lettuce and then folded the tortilla. He held it in his hands and took a big bite out of one end. Some sauce dribbled down his chin. That made me decide to use the cutlery even if the process would be awkward and inefficient. I didn’t want him to see me with a wet reddish-brown smear on my chin. Cutting into the soft shell proved to be messy, and a lot of the juicy minced meat remained on my plate, but at least my face would stay clean. The food was delicious, spicy but not crazily so. It was very different from Mrs. Gold’s food, but almost as good. I didn’t enjoy the sparkling pink wine, though. It was overly sweet and it hurt my teeth.

“My mate Conrad’s getting married this Saturday. I was wondering if you’d like to come to the reception. It’s at The Crown Royal Hotel. I’d love to have you as my date.”

My eyes must have turned as round as buttons. I squeaked the questions, “Why? Why do you want to invite me? Won’t it be complicated? Would Conrad and his bride be all right with my being at their party?” I didn’t have to ask about the legality of the proposal. I knew perfectly well that even if rules for clones were being softened, such an action would be clearly unlawful.

“No one will mind, that is if they even notice. The food will be beautiful; there’ll be dancing. I promise I will take excellent care of you. You’ll probably be the prettiest girl there.”

I stared into Joe’s eyes. They certainly didn’t inspire trust, but that wasn’t his fault. “Say ‘yes,’Sophie. You won’t regret it. You won’t have to worry about an outfit, either, no offence intended. My junior secretary is more or less your size. I can send her out shopping tomorrow for a suitable frock, and I’ll need to know your shoe size, of course.”

I can’t explain what got into me, but I answered, “I accept. It should be an amazing adventure for me, but promise you’ll meet me outside the hotel. I wouldn’t have the courage to walk in unaccompanied.”

“That was easier than I thought it would be! How delightful. Rosemary will bring the dress and shoes to your flat early Saturday morning. Now tell me what your favourite colours are and which colours you wouldn’t be caught dead wearing.”

At this turn in our conversation, it occurred to me that Joe might be gay, what with his attention to fashion details, but his probing kiss strongly suggested otherwise. “I love pink: pale pink, blush pink, dusty pink but not bubble-gum Barbie pink, and I dislike orange. My shoe size is 8. I don’t want a flouncy dress. I’d prefer something simple and elegant and not too short, but not floor-length either.” I took a second section of my wet tortilla, and then a third.

“I’m separated from my wife, Sophie. That’s why I’m living in this unit. I have two kids, young adults, a girl and a boy, barely younger than you, but don’t worry. None of them will be at Conrad’s wedding.”

I helped myself to a second taco shell, and after loading it with the designated ingredients, I held it up to my mouth and took a big-sized bite out of it. I could feel the sauce dripping down my chin, but I didn’t care. After supper, Joe led me back into the living room where he dimmed the lights and played some sad, slow bluesy music. We necked for a long time, and he fondled my breasts and stroked my thighs, but only on top of my tights and dress. Even though the fabrics of both were thick and rather course, my nerve-endings began to twitch. He took my hand and placed it on his trousers. His erection was strong, but he took our sex play no further. That was both a relief and a disappointment. It was still fairly early when Joe announced that he would walk me home. I offered to help wash the dishes, but he declined. “You’re my guest, Sophie. If we lived together, that would be a different story.”

We walked in agreeable silence. There were very few people out on the streets and surprisingly little traffic. No one looked at us accusingly. About halfway there, Joe slipped his hand over mine and it felt so warm and comforting. It was only after he kissed me good-night and started walking away that I realised I had let Kathy down. I hadn’t discovered any new information about the social status of clones, but I would have another chance on Saturday. That is, if I could keep my wits about me. Joe’s voice reached me from across the street. “The Crown Royal Hotel, Saturday at 18:30. I’ll be waiting for you.”

I was surprised to see Lucy sitting glumly on the living room sofa. She acknowledged my arrival with a lethargic nod. She sat like someone on an unmoored boat. “My request to be Mike’s carer has been denied.”

“Can’t you appeal the decision?”

“No, he’s already been assigned a carer, and my supervisor told me that there’d be too much paperwork involved in an appeal process. She told me I ought to, I had to, let it go. I’m feeling too downhearted to visit my case today. I can’t bear the thought of it.”

“You have to go to work, Lucy. It seems to me that you’ve missed more than a few days over the past month.”

“Ah, whatever. Perhaps you’re right. I’ll try to get some sleep now and see how I feel in the morning.”

I touched Lucy gently on her shoulder and slipped into my bedroom, which smelled stale. I wanted to tell Lucy that she should and could make friends among the others. As it stood, she was totally on her own and in a frightening downward spiral. I found it both amusing and ghastly that even among clones there was no equality. There were always those far luckier and unluckier than oneself, but I was beginning to believe that there were other factors at work besides luck although I was incapable of identifying what they were.

Friday morning was bright and beautiful. By the time I was finished in the lavatory, Lucy had already left the flat. I hadn’t bothered to undress, so I simply stayed in the same clothes I had changed into the evening prior. I was in a hurry to see Kathy, to share my good news with her.

To my surprise, Windmere had been transformed overnight, the theme being Christmas. A stately evergreen graced the main lobby. All its decorations, the glass globes, bows, glitter swans and angels, were silver. Even the simple star atop the tree glistened a snowy silver. It was enchanting. Clones didn’t celebrate Christmas, but that didn’t prevent us from admiring all the beauty that surrounded the celebration of the birth of the baby Jesus.

A much smaller but more colourful tree stood outside of the third floor nursing station. This tree, unlike the one in the main lobby, was artificial and somewhat gaudily enhanced with oversized blue, red, green, gold and silver baubles. The effect, nonetheless, was undeniably cheerful. It wouldn’t be Christmas for almost a month, but I reminded myself that many decorations appeared at the beginning of December. I was standing near the tree, absorbing its merry energy, when I noticed Kathy walking toward me. How well she looked! She was wearing a muted red mini dress and pale red lipstick. Her garnet, in contrast, shone almost black. “What a pretty girl she is,” I thought.

We embraced. “Let’s go to the waiting room and you can tell me all about your date,” Kathy urged. We locked arms and walked together. Our steps were in perfect harmony. I looked down to watch our feet taking matching steps and noticed her shoes — ballerina shoes, black leather, seemingly new. They weren’t stylish flats either, but genuine slippers, the kind ballerinas wear. “Your shoes!” I marvelled. “They’re exquisite. Where did you get them?”

“A nurse brought me a cardboard box yesterday evening. I think they contained the possessions of the girl across the hall. She told me to keep anything which I fancied. I felt uneasy rummaging through the contents, but everything, not that there was much, was so unusual, so lovely, that I couldn’t resist.”

“You know those ballet slippers are leather, don’t you Kathy?”

“Yes, but it’s not as though I bought them. If anyone asks me about them, I’ll tell them the truth.”

“What else was in the box?”

By then, we were seated in the waiting room. Both vending machines displayed ‘out of order’ notices taped crudely to the glass. “Let’s see now. There was this dress, and a white velvet dress, and a 1990 mermaid wall calendar. The illustrations are gorgeous. Too bad it’s almost defunct.”

I told Kathy about my date with Joe. “I’m sorry. I was so nervous and excited, I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t get any information.”

“No worries. There’s always next time. Do you think you can trust him, Sophie?”

“To a point. I know next to nothing about others, but he seems genuinely interested in me.”

“Interested or curious?”

“Both, I suppose. I’ve decided that if he wants to have sex with me, I’m going to agree.”

“Why?”

I laughed. “Curiosity and interest. And something else as well. I’m very attracted to him. He’s not a boy clone; he’s a man and I think that having sex with him will be an extraordinary experience.”

We soon strolled to Kathy’s room and she showed me the white velvet dress, which had a Renaissance allure. We must have spent the better part of the day examining the mermaid calendar month by month. The mermaids were all beautiful with long flowing tresses, pale skin and wide eyes. They were perched on rocks, or swimming alongside mighty ships, or frolicking among dolphins or sea-ponies. June’s mermaids were admiring gold rings, ruby lockets, and emerald bracelets in a jewel-encrusted treasure chest.

“It’s the strangest thing, Sophie. These mermaids remind me of us.”

I understood exactly what she meant. I told Kathy about the good, hard kiss and about the wedding invitation. “Are you nervous?” she wanted to know.

“Strangely, I’m not. Although I am sceptical about the dress and the shoes. How can they possibly fit me, let alone suit me, if I haven’t tried them on?”

“And what are you going to do about outerwear? You can’t wear that old thing.” Kathy gestured to my shabby coat which was draped over the back of a narrow chair.

“Shoot, Kath! I hadn’t thought about that. I’m seeing the Golds after I leave here today. Maybe Mrs. Gold has something I can borrow.” But the prospect didn’t please me. The last thing I wanted to do was keep taking from them. I truly wanted to find a way to properly repay them. I had an idea, but I didn’t think they would agree. I had to find a way to make them agree.

“What are you going to do if this Rosemary person doesn’t show up tomorrow morning?”

“Oh, that’s easy enough. I simply won’t go to the reception. That’s all. In fact, it might be better that way. You know, less complicated.”

When it was time for me to leave, Kathy and I embraced each other heartily. I noted how much stronger she seemed, and I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or worried. “Bring me a piece of wedding cake if you can even if it gets all squashed. It’s supposed to bring good luck.” Kathy was smiling brightly. I knew that she was happy for me. I recalled Miss Veronique’s tales of the Warsaw Ghetto. Love is invaluable, and for the unfortunate, the ill-chosen, it is essential.