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  MIRROR IMAGE

  TRISH MORAN

  Published by Accent Press Ltd 2017

  Copyright © Trish Moran 2017

  The right of Trish Moran to be identified as the author of this

  work has been asserted by her in accordance with the

  Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  The story contained within this book is a work of fiction.

  Names and characters are the product of the author’s

  imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or

  dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced,

  stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by

  any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical,

  photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written

  permission of the publishers: Accent Press Ltd, Ty Cynon

  House, Navigation Park, Abercynon, CF45 4SN

  Paperback ISBN: 9781786153340

  Ebook ISBN: 9781682996096

  CHAPTER ONE

  Morgan whistled softly as he walked along the white corridor. When he reached the double glass doors, he checked the cameras above his head and gave a satisfied nod. All seemed quiet.

  ‘All OK on C block,’ he said into a walkie-talkie.

  ‘Acknowledged,’ came the reply.

  Turning, he continued along another corridor until he reached the second pair of double doors. Once again, he nodded happily and spoke into his walkie-talkie.

  ‘Acknowledged,’ came the voice again.

  Morgan glanced at his watch; two hours until his first break. He yawned and turned into the third corridor.

  Another guard was standing at the next set of doors.

  ‘All quiet here,’ he said.

  ‘Double guards on tonight?’ Morgan asked him.

  ‘Just the manager putting on a show! Must be some new subscribers upstairs,’ the second guard replied. ‘I saw a stretch limo arrive in the south car park an hour ago.’

  ‘This place is worth a fortune.’

  ‘Yeah,’ the man said. ‘I wish a bit more of it came our way, though!’

  He watched as Morgan continued along the corridor to the next set of double doors and breathed a sigh of relief as he disappeared around the corner.

  ‘Quickly!’ he whispered to a young teenager who was waiting outside the door.

  ‘Is she here?’ the boy asked.

  ‘Yes. Come on. We don’t have much time.’

  They hurried into a small room filled with security screens. A teenage girl looked up. ‘The security cameras will be on selected replay from eleven o’clock until midnight tonight. There will only be Morgan and one other guard in this area by then.’ She pushed back her chair and stood up. ‘Now to set the timers on the capsules.’

  The older man went back into the corridor and signalled it was clear for the younger ones to follow him. Stopping outside a large set of doors, he swiped a card across the lock. ‘Make it quick! Morgan will be doing his rounds on this side in five minutes!’

  The youngsters nodded as they stepped into a large room bathed in an orange glow. There was a gentle humming of machinery in the background. The room was filled with rows of translucent capsules. They went straight to a panel on the wall where the girl keyed in a series of numbers.

  ‘Numbers forty-five to sixty-seven set for 23:10.’

  Her companion nodded curtly. ‘We’ll be here.’

  ‘Abe, Sel, we have to get out of here now!’ the older man urged them from the doorway.

  *

  In another part of the building, a surgeon pulled gloves on to his hands.

  ‘Brain activity?’ he asked as the medical staff rushed a stretcher into the operating theatre.

  ‘Fifty per cent … forty-five per cent; falling fast!’ one of the staff replied, reading a monitor at the head of the stretcher.

  ‘Is the SP in place?’ the doctor looked around.

  ‘Yes, fully prepared, sir.’ A nurse indicated the second bed on which a covered figure lay inert.

  ‘Get ready to start the download as soon as possible – while there still is something to download!’ the surgeon ordered.

  The staff silently moved around the theatre.

  ‘Download complete, sir,’ a young doctor looked at the older surgeon. ‘Thirty-eight per cent.’

  ‘He’ll have some catching up to do this time! Isolate the SP organ and ready the patient for surgery,’ the surgeon continued as a nurse pulled on his gloves.

  Once again the medical team worked quickly and efficiently together. It was several hours later when the surgeon pulled down his face mask and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He signalled to the younger surgeon. ‘You can finish this off, OK?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Same as last time. And the time before that!’ He gave his superior a grin, ‘He’s becoming a regular customer!’

  ‘Yes,’ the older man nodded. ‘Have you reclassified the SP, sister?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Discard. The porters are here now,’ she said looking up as the door opened.

  The second bed was wheeled from the room.

  ‘Good,’ said the surgeon. ‘I’d better go and see his father now. Well done everyone! Great teamwork again! Gilshaw, are you down for this afternoon’s theatre?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the younger doctor replied. ‘Speak to the parents straight afterwards, Gilshaw. Customer service, remember?’ ‘Right, sir.’

  Four figures stood motionless in the darkness, watching the door.

  ‘That’s the signal!’ Abe whispered, hurrying forward followed by Sel and two other young people. The man they had spoken to earlier held open the door.

  ‘He’s just finished his check; you have about thirty minutes.’

  Sel nodded as they slipped silently back into the room they had visited earlier.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Stella looked out of the window. She watched as a robin hopped around the lawn, now and then putting its head to one side and pecking at the ground before it moved to a new spot.

  ‘So what do you think, Stella?’ the teacher’s voice broke through her reverie.

  ‘Does Stella think?’ a girl whispered. Several others sniggered.

  ‘Is your book open, Stella?’ the teacher sighed.

  Stella opened it quickly glancing around to see if she could spot which page the others were looking at.

  Delia, a rather large, ungainly girl, mouthed, ‘Thirty-six,’ from the other side of the room.

  Stella gave her a quick grateful smile and flicked to the correct page.

  ‘We are looking at the arguments for and against animals being used in medical research,’ the teacher repeated. ‘What’s your opinion, Stella?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s right,’ Stella said. ‘It’s cruel.’

  ‘But lots of medicines are tried out on animals first, then later they can be used on humans,’ a girl suggested.

  ‘It’s still cruel though, isn’t it?’ a third girl said.

  ‘If someone you loved very much was dying and the scientists had developed a medicine that could save their life by using animal research, wouldn’t you be happy to use it?’ the teacher asked.

  ‘Oh, then I wouldn’t think twice about it!’ Stella nodded at her.

  ‘There are other ways to trial medicines without causing suffering to animals,’ another girl said.

  ‘Yeah, people who support animal research should try being guinea pigs themselves!’ said another.

  ‘Anyway, they don’t need to use animals now, do they? They’ve got places like the Centre where they’ve developed stem cell research, so no animals need to suffer,’ the animal supporter was saying.

&
nbsp; ‘Why don’t they catch those gang members that have been causing all the trouble round here this past year and experiment on them?’ suggested one.

  ‘That’s a bit harsh! My mum says some of them have had a tough start to life. They need help, not punishment,’ another girl said.

  Stella quietly nodded in agreement.

  The first girl sneered. ‘They’re just the dregs of society! They need shooting, not help!’

  A heated debate continued until the bell sounded for lunch break.

  ‘That gang fight over at the old cinema last night was pretty vicious, wasn’t it?’ Stella said to Delia as they carried their trays to a corner table in the canteen.

  Her friend nodded. ‘Two of the bikers ended up in hospital. One said he’d never seen a young boy with such strength before, like he was superhuman or something.’

  ‘Well, he would, wouldn’t he? He was probably embarrassed about losing the fight,’ Stella said.

  A group of girls and boys walked past them and giggled. One stopped at their table and smiled.

  ‘Hey, Stella! New trainers? Reebok or Nike?’ a boy called out.

  ‘More like Charitybok!’ a girl laughed.

  ‘And Delia must spend so much time deciding what to wear! Do you buy all your clothes at Tents R Us, Del?’ another girl sniggered.

  ‘Just ignore them, Stella,’ Delia muttered as they walked past.

  Stella could see her friend was upset; two bright red spots lit up her cheeks.

  ‘You’re right, they’re not worth it!’ she replied.

  ‘I don’t know how you can bear to go to netball Monday evenings and put up with even more of their company,’ Delia said.

  ‘I’ll get a few more credits; make it easier to pass PE. God knows I need some help if I’m to get my scores up to Standard level by the end of the year!’ Stella sighed. ‘I want to get onto a training scheme when I’m sixteen so I can at least earn some money to help Gran out, but I won’t have that option if I don’t get to Standard level. And I have to pass my manual driving test this time or redo the whole course! It’s so unfair that we have to pass a manual test when we can only drive a Self-Drive car anyway until we’re eighteen! The car drives itself and all we have to do is sit in it; so why on earth do we need the manual test?’

  ‘It’s just in case there’s a power cut and the Self-Drive fails,’ Delia pointed out. ‘You have to be able to drive yourself to safety.’

  ‘Hmm!’ Stella scowled. ‘It’s just another worry for me as well as the other subjects!’

  ‘I’ll help you with English and Maths, Stella,’ Delia offered.

  ‘Thanks, Del,’ Stella smiled at her. ‘You’re a real friend.’

  My only friend, she thought.

  That evening after netball practice Stella jumped off the bus and hurried up the road. It was starting to get dark and she felt a shiver go down her spine as she turned into the side road. She quickened her pace as she neared her house. Glancing around her, she caught a glimpse of movement in the bushes and started to run towards her front door. The movement continued while she fumbled with her key in the lock. Then suddenly she burst out laughing as a sleek black cat wound itself around her legs.

  ‘Sooty!’ She picked up the cat and hugged it as she opened the door. ‘Gran!’ she called, ‘Guess who just scared the life out of me?’

  She walked into the lounge to where her grandmother was seated on a reclining chair.

  ‘I thought it was one of those street gangs after me!’

  ‘Naughty Sooty! We haven’t had any trouble round here, Stella,’ her grandmother replied, stroking the cat Stella had placed on her lap, ‘but I’m glad you’re home. I don’t like you to be out so late on your own. Can’t you ask one of the other girls’ parents to drop you off?’

  ‘A couple of girls did offer,’ Stella said without meeting the older woman’s eyes, ‘but I’d rather have a quiet time on the bus home. Did Margery come round today?’

  ‘Yes, she made me a lovely stew and left some for you to heat up. She did a bit extra too, it’s in the freezer for the next few days,’ Gran replied as Stella came in from the kitchen with a tray.

  ‘So she’s not planning on calling round again this week then?’ Stella’s expression was stony.

  ‘She has her own family to look after, Stella, she can’t spend all her time on me! Anyway, I was talking to her again about you, when I’m not here anymore –’

  ‘Oh, Gran! Don’t talk like that! Charlie at the shop says you’ll outlive all of us.’

  ‘Stella, you’ve got to face it. I’m not going to live for ever. Dr Gregory told me I’m already on borrowed time, with my heart!’ Gran continued. ‘By State law you can’t live independently until you’re eighteen, so it makes sense that you stay with Margery and her family if anything happens to me before that.’

  ‘But Margery and her family don’t even like me!’ Stella argued.

  ‘Of course they like you! They’re our only family left now. They’ll look after you until you’re able to stand on your own two feet in the world.’

  ‘Did Margery say that?’ Stella looked at the older woman’s face.

  ‘Not exactly, but I know she won’t let family down,’ Gran picked up her knitting. ‘Well, tell me about your day. How did the match go after school?’

  ‘I played attack and scored two goals!’ Stella beamed.

  ‘Well done! I bet all the girls want you in their team!’ She smiled fondly at her granddaughter. ‘You know, you should go out with your friends some evenings, maybe at the weekend when you haven’t so much schoolwork to do.’

  ‘Why would I want to spend my time listening to idle girl chat when I can sit here and have a grownup conversation with you?’ Stella quipped.

  Gran shook her head. ‘Oh you always make me smile, Stella! I bet you have all your friends in stitches at school!’

  Stella busied herself with her food. She’d never let her Gran know what life at school was really like. The constant taunts about her shabby appearance. Even the teachers felt they could do little with her; she daydreamed during lessons, making few worthwhile contributions. She was just passing time until the day when she could leave and find work so she could look after herself and Gran and not depend on the condescending help from Margery. A sigh escaped her lips.

  ‘A penny for them, Stella!’ Gran said.

  ‘Just thinking I’ll make us a cup of tea, then finish my homework before Champions starts. I wonder if Bill Blazer will win again?’

  ‘Of course he’ll win!’ Gran snorted. ‘The contest is rigged!’

  ‘It’s not, Gran. It’s filmed live!’ Stella countered, smiling. They had the same argument every time they watched the television programme.

  An hour later they were both watching the end of the news before Champions started.

  ‘US President Armstrong’s son is making a remarkable recovery in hospital in London today after an accident that nearly cost him his life on the racetrack last night. His co-driver escaped with a fractured collarbone,’ the announcer said. ‘Both men are lucky to be alive, a spokesperson from the hospital told our reporter.’

  A photo appeared of the young man sitting up and smiling in a hospital bed. His head was bandaged and there were several cuts still visible on his face.

  ‘How many accidents has he survived?’ Gran asked. ‘You’d think his parents would stop him taking part in such dangerous sports!’

  ‘Yes. He had three serious injuries last year and two this year!’ said Stella. ‘His guardian angel must be looking after him!’

  Stella pushed her nails into her tightly closed fists to try to stop herself from crying. She didn’t want anyone else giving her a hug and telling her she must be brave, or it was really all for the best. How could it be for the best that she had lost her wonderful grandmother, the only person she really loved and the only one left who really loved her? Despite her efforts, a tear slowly ran down her cheek as the vicar standing at the front of the c
hurch read out a solemn prayer for Brenda Wyatt, her gran.

  The story replayed itself in her head:

  It had started as a normal school day. She had got up as usual, had a shower, made her packed lunch, and a pot of tea and some toast for Gran. She had seemed fine when Stella took the tray into her bedroom. They had chatted for a few minutes before her grandmother had looked at the clock and told Stella not to miss the bus.

  The morning passed uneventfully until morning break.

  Delia and Stella were sitting in the canteen. Luckily, they had managed to get to a corner table without encountering any of the other students and their clever taunts.

  As they sat together, Stella sipping a cup of coffee, Delia munching on a piece of toast, they chatted about the television programmes they had seen the previous night. The bell had sounded and the canteen was emptying when Stella felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Mrs Dunne from the office. She looked concerned.

  ‘Can you come with me for a minute, Stella?’

  Stella felt a wave of panic rising up in her. It was Gran. It must be Gran! She hurried to the office and sat, barely taking in what the woman was telling her.

  Mrs Gardiner, her neighbour, had phoned the school. She had rung Gran’s doorbell that morning and, getting no reply, had got the spare key from Margery. They had entered the house and found Gran slumped on the staircase. An ambulance had taken her to hospital.

  Now William, Margery’s husband, was here to pick her up and take her there. On the way he explained that Gran had suffered another massive heart attack. It was unlikely she would pull through this time. At the hospital the doctors were amazed that the old woman managed to hold on until Stella arrived.

  ‘Gran! You’re going to be fine! I know it,’ Stella had whispered to her, clutching her hand, but the old woman had shaken her head gently.

  ‘Not this time, Stella, love. Margery will look after you now, until you’re a bit older. And I’ll always be looking down on you, wherever I am…’ Her voice had trailed away at the end and slowly her eyes had closed.

  Stella came back to the present as William patted her arm gently. It was time to go to the cemetery. She followed him and Margery outside the church. Their two boys were already there; one was laughing, but quickly composed himself with a look from his father.