Sea water roars in front of me, the wind and rain blows my flimsy shirt to shreads and soaks it completely through. My 'air sticks to my face as the burgundy ribbon Bethan tied in my hair yesterday flying in front of it, damp and rolled.
Behind me, the rest of the sea wall stretches until it meets an abandoned town which I vaguely remember from seaside holidays. I clench my 'ands so hard that they turn even whiter than before as the tears drip from my eyes.
"Happy birthday, Emma."
There's someone standing at the other end of the stone wall, a fuzzy shadow. Human but not, clouded over by murky cloud so I can't make out any other details. The voice is the one from the last night with Miss Granger, the one that cracked the floors and tossed me out of the only safe place like I were a piece of litter. A jolt of fear runs through me and I step back.
"Who are you?" I ask gingerly, stumbling over my words.
Even from 'ere I can sense the sinister smile that engulfs 'is face, though I can't make it out. 'e takes a step towards me, and another, and another.
"You're 16 today." He says. "An adult in some countries. Some of your friends might even be able to pass for one." He pauses. "But not you. Never sweet, gullible Emma Skelton who still doesn't know what's going on when it's right in front of her face."
I take a step back from him. I'm dangerously close to the edge, one more step and I'll be right against it.
"Of course I don't, not even Chris does and 'e's a bloody ghost, 'e should know way more than I do." Come to think of it 'e probably wouldn't 'ave any clue in a million years, but I don't say that out loud.
I see 'im move for a split second before a wave of musky, brown smoke envelopes me. A face is pressed against mine, brown eyes rimmed in horn-rimmed glasses. A cold, ghostly finger rests beneath my chin, keeping it at the same height so I have no choice but to look into the dark pupils streaked with fire.
"What are you?" I ask, voice on a thread.
'e smiles sinisterly, a smirk almost. Fear infuses all of my nerves.
"You've been alone for a long time, Emma. A very, very long time. " 'e says slowly. "Do you even know how the rest of us work anymore?"
"Huh?" I let out, thoughts racing through my mind at such a pace that I don't even realise that 'e's shoved me.
I stumble backwards, trying to keep my footing and prove 'im wrong, but it's a futile fight and I feel myself floating in the air before I begin crashing towards the murky green sea.
I sit bolt upright, breathing heavily like I can't get enough air in my lungs. The moon shines through my drawn curtains and brings with it an eerie sense that something's different, that the world has shifted. The fear coursing through me never ebbs, just continues in one continuous wave that I fear will never end.
I shiver from cold. The night has turned into something of a nightmare and I feel more alone than ever before. Maybe he was right.
I pull the covers over my 'ead in a warm haze, trying to bring back sleep to my mind and forget about my dreams until the morning.
Bethan runs up to me when I step through the school gate with 'er eyes alive and 'air billowing out behind 'er. My eyes widen as she shoves her face in mine until I can't see anything else other than 'er.
"Did you 'ear?" She exclaims, almost bouncing from excitement.
"'ear what?" I ask innocently.
"I was talking to Imogen – you're later than you normally were so I got bored – and she said that apparently Paul in the lower sixth likes you." She nudges my arm when I look confusedly at her and I understand.
There must be a million Pauls in the lower sixth. The only one I can remember was the boy who sat with me with a bandaged head whilst I waited for Mary to collect me whilst I was in the first year. I'd tripped over in netball and smashed my face up but 'e still smiled at me, and we tolerated each other's presence for a while.
"…Which paul?" I ask. "There's quite a few."
She rolls 'er eyes like I should 'ave known.
"Paul Reynolds. 'e's in Mr Tanner's tutor."
The name rings a bell but I can't 'elp but feel sorry for 'im. Mr Tanner is notoriously strict. I 'ad 'im for science in the second year.
"Oh. Alright." Is all I say.
She looks very disappointed in me and to stop 'er from looking like that I change the subject.
"'ow on earth did you manage to get talking to Imogen anyway?"
Bethan's eyes gleefully light up again.
"She came over, 'said I looked lonely. We talked until I saw you coming." She says. "Why were you late anyway?"
I run a 'and through my 'air.
"'ad a bad night's sleep. Overslept." I shrug. "It's nothing."
"You're alright now, though?" she asks as a flash of concern passes 'er eyes.
"I'm fine." I tell her just as the bell rings and she offers 'er arm to link.
The date is scrawled across the blackboard when we enter the classroom – Mr Thomas is early this morning – and I stand right in the middle of the way because I can't believe my eyes.
Tuesday 10th September 1974
In my haste to get out the door this morning, I've forgotten it's my birthday today. I'm 16 as of 5:00am this morning.
The image of the ghostly figure on the wall wishing me a happy birthday flashing across my eyes. No wonder I've forgotten, I've been shoving all thoughts and memories of the figure and the scene out of my mind during the morning, and it's not like my family would remind me. But it still doesn't excuse it.
I've forgotten that it's my bloody birthday.
"Emma, are you okay?" Bethan asks again as I walk slowly to my desk, shellshocked.
"It's my birthday today." I mutter, just within 'er earshot. "I'm 16 today."
'e eyes widen as she plonks 'erself in 'er seat.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She asks tenderly.
"I forgot." I say softly. "I forgot until just now, when I saw it on the board."
She looks at me in complete disbelief.
"I don't understand 'ow someone could forget their own birthday." She says. "Especially their 16th, I mean, it's the first birthday when you get to actually do stuff."
I sigh and meet 'er eyes.
"My family… let's say they don't care as much as other families."
I know she wants to ask more, I know the look on 'er face. I turn away from her and look towards the board, ignoring the date in the corner. I keep my eyes on Mr Thomas, even when I can't stop the tears from slipping down my face.
My mind keeps wandering back to Paul in the lower 6th. I'm pretty sure I know which one 'e is now and I know it's the boy from the first year. Another lifetime ago.
I feel detached, adrift on a sea of loneliness and lingering sorrow that refuses to leave. The only problem is, I don't know 'ow to get back to shore.
Date Unknown
Sam's long gone and all I can do is watch the screens.
It feels like weeks since 'e'd gone but I know it must only be a few hours. Time passes differently here, weeks feel like years and even seconds feel like long minutes ticking slowly by.
I know I'm doing an important job, noting down anything that could be important to help everyone back there. It's lonely though, Sam's always off discussing things with Nelson about what the next steps should be and I'm stuck here in a barely-lit room with only a notepad and the monitors for company.
I'm glad I went when I did – who knows what could have happened to me if I'd stayed longer – but at the same time I wish I could 'ave 'ung on just a bit longer than I did. To make sure that the young girl I'd met only a few hours before I left came to the right place instead of being whisked away to 1974 by whatever's causing this mess.
We 'ave a few theories, Sam thinks it's because someone's blocking people from coming to Gene's world from the real world, shaking it up or something of that sort. I personally think that it's someone within who's causing it, perhaps someone between the two but also connected to the lifts to the basement back at Stopford House.
The monitor flickers – Emma's in a café with 'er friend, the radio blaring in the background. She's one of the ones who's been caught up with the mess and we don't know how yet. We didn't know that Chris even 'ad a younger sister until 'e disappeared and they found this room in the pub. 'e'd never mentioned 'er before, though he'd said 'e'd 'ad older sisters, but 'e always managed to change the subject whenever 'is family was mentioned. I wonder what 'appened – she's only 16.
Looking around for any sign of Sam's return but returning nothing, I move my chair towards the microphone. As far as I know, it 'asn't been used. The buttons are all there, though. Ready.
I take a deep breath and reach out a 'and gingerly to press the button I know will unlock everything. I clear my throat softly.
"Emma? Can you 'ear me?"
Bethan sits opposite me in the café, buried in an english breakfast. My cheese-on-toast seems weak in comparison. At least I've got tea.
"My brother told me what happens at the end of Lord Of The Flies." She looks like she's about to burst into laughter.
"What?" I ask and take a sip of the warm liquid.
She looks around like she's afraid that someone will 'ear us.
"Someone from the navy finds the boys on the island – saw the smoke from the fires or something – and tells them off for not being British enough."
I almost spit my tea out from my disbelief.
"Really?!"
She grins and nods at me.
"That 'as to be the most disappointed end to a book I've ever 'eard of."
"I know, they've killed at least 2 people and all that he says is "You're British, aren't you? I thought you'd put on a better show than that."" She laughs.
"That book is so outdated."
"I know, right. It's bad enough they don't have any girls on that bloody island." She replies and takes a final bite out of 'er sausage.
""Human Nature". 'ow is it human nature if you exclude 'alf the population?" I remark. "'bet Miss Granger will do something on it once we get to it."
She makes a face. "She's wet as anything. 'bet she won't."
"I think she's rather nice, actually. She just can't control the class sometimes." I say.
"We've got Robert Brown. Of course she'd struggle." Bethan says.
She places 'er knife and fork in the centre of the plate, tips 'er jumper sleeve back to reveal a neat, plain watch.
"We've still got half an hour until I need to leave to be back 'ome." She remarks.
"So?" I drain my cup of tea.
"Let's go shopping." I raise an eyebrow.
"Why?"
She rolls 'er eyes. "It's your birthday. I want to get you something. I would 'ave done this earlier if you'd told me." She pushes back 'er chair and places 'er blazer over 'er arm.
"So, what would you like?"
There are many times in my life when I've really needed something and I 'aven't 'ad the funds to afford it. Patty occasionally gives me money, out of pity I suspect, but the only source of money I really 'ave is the occasional paper round and my Saturday job at the sweetshop round the corner. All my money goes towards toiletries, school essentials and stationary. Occasionally new clothes to replace ones that I can't repair myself. I generally don't 'ave the funds to buy anything else.
The thought of someone actually buying something for me, something that I want instead of need, is an alien concept to me. It reminds me of times long passed, when I was innocent with no knowledge of 'ow the world worked and used the pocket money Dad gave us at the sweetshop.
"I don't know." I shrug.
She sighs. "Come on, you must want something."
"I really don't know."
She rolls 'er eyes. "Come on, let's go and 'ave a look for something. There's plenty of shops about."
In films, when they're trying to skip past a moment quickly and get to the next part, they always play a montage of shots of things that lead to it. If I were in a film I think the shopping trip with Bethan would be the most disappointing one in the world.
We're standing outside a second-hand clothes shop with less than 10 minutes to go until the bell rings, Bethan looks like she's about to burst into tears or murder me at the same time and I'm thoroughly sick of shopping in general.
I sigh. "One more, then let's go."
She nods but glares at me from the corner of 'er eye.
"Why are you so picky?" She groans. "None of my old mates were like this around birthdays."
"If only you knew why." I mutter under my breath.
"You're an enigma, you know that?" She tells me.
"I'm not sure if that was a compliment or an insult." I remark. "Come on, let's go in."
We trudge around the aisles, at dresses and coats and jumpers and trousers. But it's in the top section I find it, a pure black shirt with square buttons and silvery sprigs of ferns covering it. I fall in love immediately.
"Bethan!" I call, 'olding it up for 'er to see.
"Finally!" She exclaims.
She marches over to me, grabs it, shoves it at the man at the counter and 'ands over a pound note to 'im.
She 'ands it to me. "Happy birthday."
9 days later
19.09.74
Double English on a Thursday afternoon would 'ave, in the first year, been the bee's knees. As it is, the temperature 'as risen steadily throughout the day and the windows are shut as they still 'aven't been fixed from before the summer. My school shirt sticks to my back on the wooden chairs and 'alf my class look like they're about to fall asleep.
At least they're quiet.
"Can anyone tell me about the symbolism of the conch in chapter 1?" Miss asks sleepily from the front, rubbing 'er eyes.
Bethan 'alf-'eartedly puts 'er 'and up. "That Ralph was meant to be the leader all along?"
"Good suggestion." She scrawls it on the blackboard.
Since the dream that it appears both of us shared last week, she 'asn't been able to look me in the eye. It's like she's scared of me, of who I am or what my presence means, I'm not entirely sure which. But it's there. She's terrified of me.
A thump comes from the window beside me, I move my 'ead as little as I can to see what it was. No one around seems to 'ave noticed an noise and I'm mildly surprised when I see Chris out there. 'e mouths something to me but I don't understand until 'e gestures to the window when I look confused.
I retrieve a piece of scrap paper from the back of my exercise book.
Window's broken. What's wrong?
"Emma, can you find some quotes in your book that backs up George's point about savagery?"
I flick through the book until I land on one that could match up.
"Jack's point about the pig – all 'e says is that 'e wants to kill it. All the others are saying that it's an island and 'e says that 'e needs to 'unt."
Miss looks quizzically at me. I give 'er my best genuine smile.
"Where's that?"
I look at the opposite page, which has the chapter title at the top.
"Chapter 2, Miss."
She smiles at me, but still looks guarded and frightened of me.
"We're not actually at that chapter yet, Emma." I go bright red. "But it's a valid quote, all the same."
"Oh, alright." I shrink back into my chair.
"Anyone else?"
I look to my right to find that Chris has grabbed a piece of paper from somewhere and scribbled 'is own message on it.
Mary quit.
With those two words, I feel the world collapse from underneath me.