Torchwood First Born (9 page)

I arched an eyebrow. I was not sure how I felt about my husband being on chatty terms with attractive young girls.

Jenny stood waiting on the step, her smile pleasant, and expectant. 'Good morning, Mr Williams. Good morning, Mrs Williams. And how are you today?'

She was making eye contact. No teenage girl makes eye contact. How can these creatures ever have hoped to pass for human?

'Jenny Meredith, isn't it?' I said brightly.

Jenny nodded. 'My mother sent me from the shop to ask if there was anything you would like fetching and also to give you this.' She held out the newspaper. It was open at page 5, with a headline circled in highlighter. I could just read '-stfeeding risk'. Great.

'Come on in, have a cup of coffee.'

Jenny came in, her eyes processing the inside of the caravan critically. It reminded me of whenever Rhys's mother used to visit our old flat. No matter where we cleaned, there'd always be a spot that we'd missed. Jenny's eyes settled on Anwen, fascinated.

She politely sipped at a cup of coffee.

'How are you this morning, Mr Williams?' she asked.

'Fine, thanks,' murmured Rhys, his face changing gear to there's-something-I-should-have-told-you-Gwen-but-maybe-I'll-get-away-with-it. Oh, Rhys, love. You will never get away with it.

'I am pleased that you are well,' said Jenny.

'And why wouldn't he be?' I asked pointedly, watching Rhys shrink a little.

Jenny considered the question for a moment.

'Last night Mr Williams attacked our policeman.'

'Oh, he did, did he?' I loved the big, stupid, wonderful fool.

'Yes, I was worried that he would be hurt.'

'Right,' I said, and winked at Rhys. We would deal with this later. Lordy, there was loads to deal with later and not even a spaceship crashing out of the sky.

'Can I hold you^baby?' Jenny asked suddenly. 'I have never touched one. It would be interesting.'

Hmm, love, a couple of points there. Mostly, don't act like you might dissect my child.

But I handed Anwen over. My baby girl was wearing that scrunched-up expression that boded really badly for anyone in a three-metre radius.

Jenny was welcome to her.

To start with, it was a bit touch and go.

'I am sorry.' Jenny's tone was puzzled. 'I am getting the centre of gravity wrong. Your child is also heavier than she looks.' She paused. Tell me, what is her mean atomic weight?'

Even Rhys pulled a face at that, especially as Jenny seemed about to drop Anwen, but we managed a mid-air course correction between us, and, truth to tell, Anwen settled down happily in Jenny's arms.

Babies are like cats. No matter how much love and attention you lavish on them, they make a show of being happiest with strangers.

'How old is this?' asked Jenny.

'She's ten weeks,' I said. Rhys, I noticed, had gone to put some more toast on. If he was hoping for distance, he'd best wait till we'd moved somewhere a tiny bit bigger than a large cupboard.

Jenny nodded, interested.

'And how old are you?' I asked.

Twenty,' said Jenny. I heard Rhys pause, mid-butter scrape.

Wow,' I said.

Jenny looked down at herself, with a curious air of What? This old thing?' She shrugged. This is how I was born. I have always looked like this. I wonder if I always will.'

'Don't you know?'

'No. That is why I said I wondered.'

'Do you...' I paused.

Rhys took over, gently. 'Do you know what you are, Jenny?'

'I am a girl.'

'No... but... the children of the village. You must know... that you're not normal.'

Jenny again paused. If she was a computer she'd have been displaying a gently spinning egg timer.

'But we are normal. Your child is not. It is a different species. It is ageing rapidly. I am not. I am ageing at a much slower rate.'

'Where do you come from?' Rhys asked.

Jenny smiled, the kind of smile you get at the building society when there's been a tiny issue with your account. 'The stork brought us. Or we were found under a gooseberry bush. It is not known.'

'But surely you know that...?'

'Yes,' sighed Jenny. That sometimes when a Mummy Bee and a Daddy Bee like each other very much they do a little Baby Dance.' She shook her head. 'But that is not how I was made.' She suddenly looked crestfallen. 'Are there others like us in the world, do you think?'

'No,' I said. 'I don't think so. I think you're very special, Jenny.'

'Special?' echoed Jenny, pleased. 'I like that.'

'What... Tell us about you,' urged Rhys. 'For instance, last night... Jenny... well, she's very strong.'

'I am no stronger than the others, but you grown-ups - your bodies and your minds are weaker than ours.'

'Our minds?' I gasped. Suddenly really worried.

Rhys looked the same.

Jenny glanced between us. Like she could read our thoughts. Could she? I felt cold. I felt horribly afraid. This thing... holding my daughter.

Jenny blinked, as though pained. Would you like Anwen back?' she offered. Her tone was suddenly that of a real child, trying to share a toy it didn't really want to give up.

'No,' I said quickly. 'It's just... you have to understand, there is something remarkable about you. What do you mean about our minds being weak?'

'Oh...' Jenny was casual. 'It is so hard to explain.

Your minds are like jelly. It is really easy to push them and make them wobble. It is fun. But we do not. We are told not to.'

'Who tells you not to?' Rhys asked. Good point.

Jenny shrugged. 'I cannot explain.'

'But why are you here?' I asked.

'Because Rawbone is a sad place. We are trying to make the people here happier.'

'How's that working out for you, then?' asked Rhys dourly.

For an instant, Jenny shot him such a look. Then, like a summer cloud, it passed, and she was all radiant bafflement. 'We do the best we can.'

'But who brought you here in the first place?' I asked. 'I mean, Jenny, you must have some idea of that?'

She shook her head, and her gloriously straight hair barely moved. 'No. I am still a child. I do not believe that a child understands the meaning of life.'

I was about to say that she had a massive whiff of bullshit about her, when she paused, sniffed and wrinkled her nose. 'This baby, it is now wrong,V she said.

'Oh,' I said. 'Anwen just needs changing, that's all.'

'Into what?' Jenny looked puzzled.

'She needs a new nappy,' I explained.

'Oh.' Jenny smiled widely. 'What is that? Is it fun? Can I try?'

'By all means.' I smiled. 'Jenny, do you know what pebble-dashing means?'

She shook her head.

'Then this will be fun.'

Rhys

I watched Jenny holding our baby.

We kind of skipped antenatal classes, due to being hunted by the world's secret police, but one of the things I was dying to have a go on was a fake baby.

You know the things I mean? They're dolls, they weigh about the same, they make a lot of noise and are constantly demanding. But they're not actually real.

Suddenly, that's what Jenny reminded me of. A kid that had been made in a factory. But by who, and why?

Despite my reservations, she was bloody good with the baby, that was for certain. I realised that Jenny was great at picking up and reflecting body language. Anwen frowned, so Jenny would frown.

Which would make Anwen smile. So Jenny would smile. The baby even stopped squirming and hung in her arms, as floppy as an old T-shirt Suddenly, Gwen and I had nothing to do. We were just stood there at the side of the kitchen-dinette.

'Don't you have somewhere to be?'

Jenny shrugged. 'Only school.' She paused. 'But today I am
mitching off'
She used slang like a BBC

newsreader. I wondered if I could get her to say

'cowing lush'.

Gwen took a step closer and sank down, staring at Jenny's eye level. She was in Nancy Drew mode.

'School, right?'

'Yes.'

'Do you learn stuff?'

'Heaps.' Jenny considered. 'I think I know a lot of it already. But sometimes it is nice for us all to learn together.'

'And what do you learn?'

'Stuff.' Jenny's eyes, just for a second slid sideways and then back. Evasive. Cunning. Sly.

'What kind of stuff?' Gwen hadn't missed a thing.

'We are not supposed to say,' Jenny admitted. She held up Anwen. 'I believe she is hungry. Shall I feed her?' She started to unbutton her school shirt.

'No, it's OK.' Gwen was very quick. 'I'll take care of it.'

Jenny refused lunch, which was a shame, as I'd managed something approaching a proper meal, even if it was from tins. At the stroke of two o'clock, she stood up.

'I will go now, if that is all right,' she said. She handed Anwen over to me. I held the baby up above my head and dangled her, then swept her to my shoulder, making embarrassing 'Who's Daddy's favourite girl?' noises.

Jenny watched impassively. 'I must go to games.'

'Oh, right,' said Gwen.

'I have enjoyed playing with your child, however.'

'Anwen,' I put in.

'Yes,' agreed Jenny. 'Perhaps I can do so again?

Anwen is small and warm.'

'And smells,' I said.

'Yes. Would you like me to change her again before I go?'

'Nah,' I said. 'It's what dads are for.'

'I see.' Jenny nodded. 'I had wondered what part they played after the conception.' She smiled. 'I must go. Have a good afternoon.' She turned around and left.

We watched her walk out of the caravan park, her perfect hair and neatly ironed school uniform all utterly in place.

'Crikey,' I said.

'Yeah,' said Gwen.

'So,' I muttered, 'we've got one of the Children of the Corn as a babysitter.'

'All I heard,' Gwen pushed her hair away from her face, 'was the word "babysitter".'

'Yeah,' I agreed dreamily.

We worked out what to do next. Then we drew up a list. We drew up a lot of lists in those days. Normally while the bottle steriliser was cooking up its sweet little hospital-whiffing stew of Milton fluid.

'So, we find out what the Scions really are, investigate the Weather Monitoring Station, find out where these kids go to school. Anything else?'

Gwen asked. She was holding a biro quite seriously, even though she'd scribbled the list on the back of a takeaway menu.

'Pop into the village shop for bog roll,' I said.

'Yes,' agreed Gwen. 'That goes straight to the top of the list.'

Eloise

Hey Eloise!

Thanks so much for this. Great stuff Really feel
we've moved on. We are making progress, so yay!

Small thing. Just wondering if you have any more
data about this family who have moved into Rawbone
you can cycle downstream? I've checked the databases
on the shared folder, and there's nothing in there,
unless I am being stupid and missing it. I'd really
appreciate it if you could keep the shared folder up
to date! These systems aren't just for my benefit, but
for the entire project!
So,
sorry, but can you update
them if you've got a moment to spare? Everyone here
is very keen to know what's going on with this family.

Pictures too, if you've got a chance to take them, that
would be fab. Would really appreciate the effort.

Main thing, obviously, is that the info about how
the Scions are reacting to the outside influence is
BLOODY FASCINATING. Great data, really. Risky
stuff, but paying off. Lot of thought going on here as
to how we can utilise it - maybe bring in more parents
with children, see how that provokes things? Shake it
up and see what falls out! We'll have more thoughts
for you on that soon.

Obv, keen to hear any ideas you've got as to how
you can minimise the effect this is having on the
adult population. That would be great. Love to see
some action on that asap, naturally. We don't want a
bloodbath on our hands!:)

Let's really step it up and mix it up, yeah?

x Jas x

I gazed at the screen. Tom was reading it over my shoulder. I hadn't even heard him come in.

'Oh eM Gee,' he said. 'She's really talking about bringing more children into Rawbone?'

'Uh-huh.' My voice was little more than a whisper.

'But how?' He was really angry. Really angry with me. Like this was my fault.

'I'm fairly sure it's impossible, isn't it?' I protested.

Tom shrugged. 'She'll probably resettle a few asylum seekers. They've always got lots of children.

Children and nasty jumpers.'

'Jeez,' I groaned.

What the hell are we going to do?' Tom muttered.

I stood up, tugging down my cardigan. 'Let's run away. We could open up a tea shop somewhere.'

Tom finally smiled, slightly. We'd have to take Sebastian with us.'

'True,' I agreed.

We wandered out into the corridor. Sebastian was there, as ever, reloading the paper into the sheet feeder. I loved that ancient printer. Noisy but reliable.

No one knew where Sebastian got the supplies for it

— there was probably a bunker somewhere full of that lovely green and white lined paper with perforated holes down the sides. Just the smell of it took me back to my childhood, to the Computer Room at high school, to lessons in Chemistry and Biology, to standing over a Bunsen burner with a tiny slice of liver bubbling away in a test tube.

Confession - my first ever science lesson, I was a total klutz. True fact. I heated up a test tube over a Bunsen. No one had told me anything about glass conducting heat. Why should I know that? I know it's common sense, but I'm not a common-sense gal.

So I didn't use the metal tongs, I just waved the test tube over the flame with my hands. Cost me a couple of blistered fingertips, but taught me some really useful stuff.

Like don't conduct a scientific experiment before you know all of the facts.