22.
Born on the 21st of January, Emily was a winter baby. She’d been looking forward to her birthday but as it drew near she realised that it wasn’t going to be a happy day, it was going to be a sad one. Her mum and dad and her friend Annie would be thinking of her and they’d be sad. It’s hard to be happy when those that love you, aren’t. You get dragged down by the mood.
Knock, knock, knock!
On the morning of the 21st Emily was awaken by sharp knocking on her front door. Throwing her shawl over her shoulders, she opened the door to find Zeus standing there with a flax bag in his hand.
‘Happy Birthday!’ he said, giving her a big hug. Anodes, being just a little taller than Emily, were just the right size for a cuddle.
‘What’s in the bag?’ she asked.
‘This and this, and this and that,’ said Zeus, pulling out streaky bacon, eggs, tomatoes, and some delicious smelling freshly baked bread. ‘I’m cooking breakfast this morning!’
Reaching into his bag again, he said, ‘And this,’ and handed Emily a small orange parcel tied up with string. ‘It’s from Castor and Pollux, Azziz and Jesus. My sons are OTA, so Castor asked me to give it to you.’
‘What’s OTA?’
‘Off the asteroid,’ replied Zeus.
Emily carefully untied the string and opened the present. It was a new diary with a black cover and blank pages and was small enough to fit in her pocket. Also there was a set of twenty-four coloured pencils, good quality ones in a lovely black leather case with zips, a sharpener and a rubber for when she made a mistake.
‘Thanks Castor, thanks Pollux, thanks Jesus and Azziz. It’s perfect; it’s just what I wanted.’
‘That’s our pleasure,’ said their voices. ‘Happy Birthday!’
Zeus threw some chunks of wood into the stove and soon the smell of bacon was wafting out to where Emily sat on the veranda, adding colour to the sketches that she’d drawn in her old diary.
Once they’d finished breakfast, Zeus said, ‘It’s time to visit your grave, let’s have a look.’
With a click of his fingers the Worm materialised and Emily found herself in Sheffield, sitting on a tombstone, looking across at her grave. It was a beautiful, crisp winter’s morning and the pale sunlight glinted off thousands of ice crystals that covered the ground and trees. Her mum and dad, Danny and Julie were there. Emily guessed that Toby, the baby had stayed home with her nanna. Annie arrived on her bicycle, breathing out clouds of steam as she puffed her way up the hill. Once Annie had joined them, Julie placed a bouquet of flowers, big cheerful yellow daisies, on the grave. Emily’s mum and dad and Annie cried, giving each other a hug while the two little ones broke icicles off the graves.
‘Zeus, can you do your williwaw thing?’ asked Emily.
‘You try,’ he said.
First there was just a faint rustling of branches and the tinkling of ice crystals, then a mini tornado eddied around the graveyard picking up the frost and leaves and swirling them up into the air.
Then it was gone as quickly as it had arrived. The leaves spiralled back to ground leaving the air sparkling with ice crystals which slowly rained down on everyone, coating them with white. Emily’s dad and mum looked up at the sky and smiled, their halos glowing yellow with happiness. Annie dusted the frost off her shoulders and stayed a sad, grey colour.
Emily was smiling and crying at the same time when Zeus brought her a hot chocolate.
‘Oh, that is strong!’ she exclaimed.
‘There’s a wee nudge in there. You look like you need it,’ he said. ‘Let’s work on the boat.’
‘Let’s,’ said Emily, and they spent the rest of the day shaping the pieces of wood that went around the gunnels, screwing and gluing them in place, then sanding the edges smooth and filling the gaps with epoxy and sawdust.
Emily liked working with wood; it was so satisfying to build something.
Her body was up to something. It was sprouting. She was growing taller by the day. But she wasn’t just shooting upwards; she was blossoming. Her nipples, which she’d never had a thought for before, were growing into boobs, and hairs, little dark curly ones, were sprouting in places that rarely saw the light of day.
One day shortly after her twelfth birthday she had a shock. Her fanny was bleeding. Dark red blood ran down her leg and dripped on the floor.
‘Aaagh!’ she screamed in panic. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Zeus, Zeus,’ she called in her thoughts. ‘I need a doctor.’
‘What’s wrong?’ he answered.
‘Well, well I’m bleeding from.., from..., I can’t say where. It’s a bit embarrassing.’
‘I know just the person. I’ll see if she’s available. Would you like a house call?’
‘That’d be great.’
Emily thought it would be best to stay in bed, so she stoked up the fire and curled up under her duvet.
Zeus turned up half an hour later with a rather startled looking lady. She had straight dark hair, tied back under a scarf and wore a long black dress, with white frills around the neck and cuffs, like women wear in the movies from way back when they got about in horse drawn carriages instead of cars.
She looked a little pale and sat down in the comfy chair repeating, ‘Jeewilikers, well I’ll be, jeewilikers, I’ll be-’
‘Could I get you a cup of tea?’ asked Emily, getting up.
A little blood trickled down her leg but this woman was obviously in a worse state than her.
‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ she said.
She seemed quite a lady.
‘Emily, let me introduce Doctor Florence,’ said Zeus.
‘I’m not a doctor,’ protested the lady, getting some colour back in her face. She turned to Emily and said. ‘Pleased to meet you Emily, I’m Florence Nightingale.’
Emily bowed and shook hands with her, ‘Are you the lady who ran around looking after the wounded soldiers?’
‘Yes, that was a long time ago. I had a calling from God.’
Emily gave Zeus a look.
He winked at her and put his finger over his mouth. ‘Shishhhh,’ he said quietly.
‘We studied you at school,’ said Emily. ‘You’re the lady with the lamp. It’s such a surprise to meet you.’
‘It was such a surprise when this creature took me by the hand and the world flew around and around, and I arrived here,’ said Florence, nodding her head in Zeus’s direction. ‘I’m still shaky.’
Turning to Zeus again, she added, ‘What was your name again, Suet?’
‘Suez,’ said Zeus.
‘Suez, like the canal,’ said Florence. ‘I will remember this time.’
‘It’s a lovely day,’ said Emily. ‘Would you like to sit out on the terrace and I’ll bring you your tea there?’
‘That would be very nice,’ said Florence in her posh accent.
After helping her to her feet, Emily smiled to herself as she watched Florence walking out the door, towering a good foot over God’s spiky head.
Making a pot of Earl Grey tea, she carefully arranged some mugs, a bowl of sugar, a jug of milk and some gingernuts on a tray, hoping it would be good enough for a lady. She got half way to the door then went back again to pour some boiling water into Florence’s cup to warm it up, like she saw on Sherlock Holmes.
Once she’d drunk her tea, Florence regained her composure and became quite chatty. She wanted to know all about Emily and how a twelve year old girl came to be in heaven. At this point Zeus gave Emily a gentle elbow in the ribs before she could say, ‘Heaven, hell no,’ or mention asteroids. Emily told Florence the story of her abduction and crossing the desert up to when she died.
‘Oh my darling,’ exclaimed Florence. ‘You poor thing!’
‘It wasn’t so bad,’ said Emily. ‘A bit of an adventure really.’
Zeus excused himself, saying, ‘If you ladies would like to talk shop, I’m off to get some fresh air,’ and walked off along the track to the orchard.<
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‘What is the matter with you, my dear?’ asked Florence. ‘You look perfectly healthy.’
‘I don’t feel sick or anything, but this morning when I got up I was bleeding from my fanny.’
‘Your what, my dear?’
‘My girly bits,’ said Emily, using her finger to indicate the general area.
‘Oh,’ laughed Florence. ‘That is fantastic; it means you’re becoming a woman. Do you know about the birds and the bees?’
‘I do,’ said Emily, ‘but please run over it again.’
Florence Nightingale was so Victorian in the way she said things that Emily had trouble keeping a straight face, but she did learn a lot.
‘What can I do about the bleeding?’ asked Emily. ‘It’s going to make a mess.’
‘Well,’ said Florence, ‘Some of the new girls in heaven use t.., ta.., ta...’
‘Tampons,’ whispered Castor’s voice.
‘Tampons,’ said Emily, helping her out.
‘Yes, tampons. They look like a mouse. Very convenient, I wish I had them in my day. What works almost as well is sea sponges. They’re just a bit messy to clean, it can get unhygienic.’
‘There’s sponges washed up on the beach,’ said Emily. ‘Let’s go look.’
The first few they found were big round ones. Florence looked at them and said, ‘No,’ as she shook her head.
Then they found one that had lots of thin branches.
‘Perfect,’ said Florence, picking it up. ‘Soak it in some fresh water, then boil it up to sterilise it. There’s plenty on the beach so you can just throw them out when they’re full of blood. You should stop bleeding after four or five days.’
‘Thanks Dr Florence.’
‘I’m not a doctor,’ said Florence, stomping her foot.
‘What do slugs have against worms?’ asked Emily.
‘They wriggle too much and you never know when one’s going to pop up underneath you.’ answered Castor, making her laugh.
Moving onto important business, Emily demanded, ‘Puberty and sex, I want to know about sex.’
She was up in Castor’s moon on a fact-finding mission.
‘Puberty first,’ said Castor. ‘Take a seat.’
He showed her a short but very funny video about puberty, which explained everything about boys and girls turning into men and women. The bit about hairs growing in funny places had them both in stitches.
‘Now sex!’ demanded Emily.
A hundred different images popped up on Castor’s screen.
‘I’m not sure a twelve year old girl should be watching this,’ said Castor. ‘Teroids are very funny about sex and their bits and pieces.’
‘You can talk!’ said Emily. ‘You and your yellow bits!’
‘Keep our yellow bits out of this. They’re different, they’re private!’
The craft spun around and Castor blasted a slimeball.
‘Oh, that was good,’ he said. ‘It’s been quiet today.’
The pictures on Castor’s screen weren’t what Emily had expected. She didn’t know what to expect, but this definitely wasn’t it. If anything, she’d expected something like ballet, like swans courting in the park. This is more like nude wrestling with lots of flesh, lots of screaming, lots of puffing and panting. The object seemed to be to pin your opponent to the ground. The men won most of the time but occasionally the girls were on top.
‘Wait a minute,’ said Emily. ‘Castor, you have censored this. There were fuzzy bits where the men’s willies should be.’
‘Do you really want to see them?’
‘Yes of course!’
‘Aaaagh,’ screamed Emily, as the pictures became sharp. ‘What is that thing? It’s huge, oh my God, cover it up again!’
‘I warned you,’ laughed Castor.
Emily wasn’t too sure what to make of it all
Once she was back home she looked through the Worm and see what ordinary people did.
She looked into suburban homes to see what people did at night. Mostly they slept. Some snored, some snuggled up with their pillows and others made love. They kissed and touched each other then rolled about in a tangle of arms and legs for a while, then they kissed and cuddled some more and went to sleep in each other’s arms.
That looked like something to look forward to. It would be nice to have someone to cuddle up with.