Greetings all, I hope your festive times were delightful. I had the best fucking present ever, when I got the news that SJ was continuing to improve and had woken up! She even gave her friend a wink and a little wave, so things are looking up. She's still a very sick girl though so keep those wishes coming, and thank you for your help so far.

Once again, I must thank my wonderful French consultant BlueEyedFrog for her input into this chapter, her creativity is helping my Effy to come alive and for this I am hugely grateful.

I think everybody knows I don't own Skins by now ;-)

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6. Creatures Of The Night

Effy

I am nocturnal. J'ai toujours été un oiseau de nuit. When I was bad this meant adventure, roaming the bars and clubs and streets to see what devilment and mischief I could find. Now that I am good, it means lying awake in my lover's arms whilst he drifts contentedly through his marijuana soaked dreams. It has always been this way. As soon as I could manage it, I would sneak out of the house at night, getting my brother Tony to cover for me with Mum and Dad. It was simple enough. Even then I was a mistress of disguise. They had no idea that the quiet polite daytime Effy they encountered would morph into another girl altogether when darkness fell. It is one of the strangest things about having a lover. Having someone wonder where you are at night. Wanting you next to them even as they sleep. Missing your presence when you're not there in the bed. I have only coped with this transition by using this time to think, to imagine, to dream. In this silence I can feed my creativity, and I am thankful for that, for it is the one thing that keeps me sane. And I have to keep remembering how much Freddie is responsible for that. Cook and Thommo too. Without them I would still be facilitating someone else's vision. And that wasn't enough.

Some nights I bring my laptop to our bed so I can work when inspiration hits me. Other nights he just clings too tightly and I know that his subconscious needs to feel that I am there. Tonight was just such a night. He had wrapped himself around me and let his breathing fall in step with mine. His hand was resting on my thigh, and seemed to take up almost all of it. I love his body and the things it can do for me, but sometimes it just seems impossibly large. Sometimes it feels like he could crush me. Some nights I have to fight the urge to run away. But then I remember that I am good. And that he loves me, and he would never hurt me. Even if I deserve it.

Freddie and I live at the barn. It's peaceful, and I like to be close to the source of the work. Cook lives in town because he 'needs to be closer to the totty', and I can't say I blame him. It's quite a trek out here at the end of a night. Like a good African boy, Thomas still lives with his mother and his younger siblings. He is the man of the house, and somehow manages to live a double life between us and our godless whoring ways, and his duty to his family. It's admirable, but he is an honourable man. I am surrounded by good men. Cook might be an obnoxious slag at times, but in his heart he is true and an intensely loyal friend. They keep me focussed. They remind me that I am good.

Of course there are nights when I return to my primal self. Une créature aussi féroce ne peut pas être restreinte trop longtemps. I need to release it every now and then in order to survive. Over time I have learned to control it better. The drink and the drugs no longer lead to irretrievable chaos and mayhem, and somehow I have acquired the skill of not letting things go too far. Freddie used to be terrified of such nights, always afraid that I would revert to type and fuck him over again, but just as I have slowly learned to behave, so he has slowly learned to trust me and no longer feels the need to follow me round like a private detective. It's a sound move on his part, because nothing pisses me off more than the feeling of being caged, and unlike the popular saying, the more rope he gives me, the easier it is not to hang myself. It has become part of our agreement that for all the nights I remain connected to him, there must be nights when I can exercise the beast.

But the night is a fickle mistress. Her very beauty is her unpredictability. And just when I thought I had things all worked out… La nuit m'a montré ses dents.

The night gave me a gift of Katie, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about her since. At first I tried to forget, to shrug it off as a passing fancy, something that would not trouble me for long. But when she showed up at the barn, I wasn't surprised at all. I had left it to the Fates to decide, and they had thrown us together in more conclusive a manner than I had ever imagined. No casual meeting in another club or party. No arranging to meet for a coffee in a nice public place with the easily arranged timescale of finishing a cup. No, she was going to be here. In my space. In my home. In my head. I could already feel her crawling beneath my skin. There will be no hiding from Katie.

A smile graced my lips as I remembered the way she stood up to me the day we met for the third time. There is no coyness or pretence with Katie. She will not let us lie to ourselves or to each other about our inconvenient attraction. She wants us to face it and move on. And I owe it to her to try.

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The next time I saw Katie was at night. Freddie had invited her to the gig we were doing at the weekend, and I wasn't too happy about it. It was a rent-payer. Small gig, limited budget, conservative client. I didn't really want her to see me doing this kind of work. Freddie was always delighted any time we got a job, and in these harsh times probably rightly so. But I had bigger dreams. Je voulais créer des choses incroyablement belles, des choses a couper le souffle. And these were the things I wanted to show to Katie. Not some dumb blaster for the re-opening of a regenerated park in Swindon. But it was impossible to make a fuss about it without it seeming weird. So I was stuck with it. It won't be too bad, I tried to rationalise. I forget that the mere sight of a firework is exciting enough for most people, and that others do not analyse every little detail the way I do. But still, it was hard to hide my disappointment, and it put me in a touchy mood. The boys have known me for a long time, and they know when to steer well clear. Even Freddie with his ridiculous optimism could see that there was something eating me.

"What's up Effy?" he asked me as I was testing the firing system not long before the show.

"Nothing," I replied, frowning studiously at the display on my laptop, grateful for a sudden distraction. "Slave module four looks like it's not responding."

I was hoping Freds would rush off to see to it himself, but he merely radioed Cook and returned his attentions to me.

"You've been acting funny all day," he said.

"I'm having one of my 'funny' days," I said flatly.

He turned away and I could tell he was rolling his eyes, and trying not to let me wind him up.

"Effy honey, you know you can tell me anything," he said kindly.

"Honey I've got a fucking slave module out of whack," I said in frustration. "Now is not the time for a deep and meaningful."

Just then Cook's voice crackled through the radio.

"Try it now, Eff," he said.

I re-ran the test programme, and sure enough slave four was back online.

"What was it?" I said, taking the radio from Freddie.

"Dicky connection," said Cook. "I pulled out the two core and cleaned it. Then I stuck it back in hard, wriggled it around a bit and hey presto! Magic happened."

I smirked at his innuendo.

"Well you always were good at that," I said.

"You should know," he laughed loudly.

I didn't even need to look at Freddie to know the look that would be on his face right now – half righteous frown and half kicked puppy. He hated any kind of reminder that Cook had gotten there first, though to be fair that was back in the day when almost anybody got there first. I was more than happy to shag anything shiny that took my attention. Apart from Freds that was. Even though he was so, so pretty as a boy, the sheer look of longing and intensity he had in his eyes every time he looked at me was enough to put the fear of several gods in me, and I made sure to keep him at arm's length. I think he pretty much fell in love with me the day we met, and it must have been torture watching me fucking all the randoms. But what could I do? That was in the dark days before I found my fire, and even though I was shitfaced most of the time, I still had the sense to realise we would have destroyed each other. I hadn't ever told him that I had taken Thomas's virginity. There were just some things he was better off not knowing. I turned away from my laptop, hoping to salve some of his hurt with a kiss, but I was saved by the sound of his phone ringing. Whoever it was seemed to cheer him up instantly.

"Where are you?" he asked. "Ok, stay there. I'll come and meet you."

He closed the call.

"That was Katie," he told me. "I'm gonna go fetch her."

"Right," I said casually, concealing the way my heart had jumped at the mere mention of her name. Y'a des choses qu'il ne valait pas qu'il sache, c'est sûr.

He wandered off and I attempted to make myself look busy, even though there was merely a ruse. All the hard work had taken place earlier in the day, and with all the circuits testing perfectly there was nothing left to do but wait. This was always the worst part. You always had to leave yourself plenty of time, just in case of bad weather or if something went wrong, but then there was this inevitable lull that always left my skin crawling as if I had fallen into a barrel of ants, and my mind racing at a thousand miles an hour. The closer I get to firing, the worse it gets, until magically, about five minutes before the call it all goes away. I mean everything goes away. I get in the zone and it is like I become a different person. I become almost beatifically calm, and I feel like I could do fucking anything. In the olden days, you had a clock and a manual firing system. You had to physically hit a red button to ignite each firing sequence, and you had to be on it for the whole of the show. These days everything is pre-programmed, you only have to hit 'go' once and the computer does the rest, but still, the seconds before you fire are some of the most precious seconds of all. The seconds when you feel most alive. My mother has this saying 'Sans risque, la vie n'est rien'. And I believe her. I think perhaps some of the wildness of my youth was connected to that feeling. But then I discovered the power of explosives, and now it's what I live for.

"How's it looking, babe?" said Cook, ambling into my field of vision in his protective clothing – fireproof overalls and a bright red helmet with visor and ear defenders.

"Génial," I told him. "Everything's looking sweet."

"I'll say it is," he said, grinning over my shoulder.

"Oh, shitting, cocking, fucking bitch cunt," came an unmistakable voice from behind me.

I turned round to see Katie extracting an expensive looking high heel from what looked suspiciously like dog shit. She was furious, and I had never seen anything so beautiful.

"Fucking dog owners who don't clean up their creatures' poo should be made to roll around in it," she declared, pulling a packet of tissues from her handbag. She kicked off the offending shoe and picked it up gingerly, looking like she was about to vomit.

"Here you are, babe," said Cook, taking the tissues and the shoe from her. "I'll sort that out for you."

I cocked my head to one side and raised my eyebrows. Cook being a gentleman? Well that was fucking interesting. Seems like I'm not the only one to have fallen under Katie's spell. She was still swearing like it was an Olympic sport, but from her fair mouth it sounded like poetry. I forgot about all my pre-show tension and just watched her in all her foul-mouthed glory.

"Occupational hazard I guess," shrugged Freddie, trying to make light of it, but she sent him a withering glare that had ripples of fire running through my gut. Elle était resplendissante.

"There you are," said Gentleman Cook, presenting her with the newly cleaned footwear. "You know, if you're gonna watch the show, you should come back with us to the shell site. It's much more exciting watching them go off close by."

"Does this coat look like it's fucking flameproof?" she said scathingly. "I think I'll be alright out here thanks."

Cook was unperturbed.

"Doesn't it need to be?" he said. "Cause you are one fucking red hot lady."

"Seriously, Cook," I said mockingly. "Do you have to drag all your chat up lines kicking and screaming from the grave?"

Katie looked up at me, and I was forced to eat my words. She was hot. She was fucking scorchingly hot, and I couldn't blame Cook for wanting to get into her pants at all. The coat in question was a gorgeous pale cream hooded fake fur, with long thick spikes of fur and occasional darker spots, giving the impression of an animal print without being too obvious. It was deliberately oversized, counterpointing perfectly the tight purple dress she was wearing underneath. Not exactly the kind of thing a regular person would wear to an outdoor event in a park, but fuck me, I wasn't complaining. She looked fabulous. Thankfully I was saved from any embarrassingly obvious drooling, by the client coming over to give me the five-minute standby. This was the cue for the boys to go back out onto the site to be close to the tubes in case anything went wrong, leaving me alone out front with Katie. Fortunately this was the time when I briefly became the coolest woman on the planet, when I had kilograms of fierce chemistry at my fingertips.

"You look great," I said coolly, ignoring the gathering crowds past the barriers behind us.

"So do you," she said.

"If you say so," I laughed.

Just like the boys, I was dressed in my fireproof overalls, except where theirs were dark blue, mine was red. It was a little vanity I had always allowed myself, and anyway it matched my helmet. Nevertheless, I felt stupidly underdressed in the face of Katie's fabulous outfit.

"I do," she said. "I think it's sexy."

"Now who's breaking the no flirting rule?" I said.

"I'm not flirting," she countered. "I'm just stating a fact. I think you look sexy in your firing suit."

Why? Why did one stupid little sentence from her have such an impact? I loved Freddie, but he could complement me all night and it wouldn't make me feel this stupidly happy.

"Well, I'd love to stay and 'exchange facts' with you all night, but I have somewhere I'm supposed to be," I said, wondering if she'd remember the way she yelled at me back in Paris. Even in the semi darkness, I could see a slight blush rising in her cheeks.

"I'm not a total cunt," she said with a sheepish half smile. She remembered.

"More like half cunt, half goddess?" I suggested.

She burst out into a delighted laugh. Fuck, I loved making her laugh.

"Something like that," she smiled back at me. "But seriously, babes. I think you do have somewhere to be."

I shook myself from my Katie trance.

"Come on then."

I took her hand and led her back to the table in the small gazebo where my firing system sat, linked up to my laptop.

"I'm glad to see there's a red button," she said. "Even in these modern times there should still be a red button."

"Il y a toujours un bouton rouge." I replied, turning the key and arming the system.

From this moment I am unbreakable. My body clock slows down, my breathing becomes incredibly calm, and my heart rate eases to a steady dance. You would expect the opposite, that the nerves and the adrenalin would send your organs into overdrive. But I think it's more like what happens when you crash or you fall, when your brain moves faster than your perception of time and you can see and understand everything in the moments before the impact. Whatever it was, I fucking loved it. It was the most powerful drug of all, and I was addicted. I could even sense the electricity from the radio before it crackled into life. I could hear the intake of breath in the throat of the client before he spoke. I could taste the explosive potential in the tubes I was about to launch. The client uttered my favourite words in all the universe. 'Fireworks Go.' I pressed the button. J'étais entière.

The sky burst into life in front of me, and the special smile that blessed me only in this moment burst into life across my face. Suddenly it didn't matter that this was just a shitty little gig in Swindon. Suddenly I was no longer just Effy, former slut and waster, a girl on a road to nowhere. I was the fabulous Effy Stonem. I was a creator, a woman who made beauty from destruction. The sound of my beautiful bombs mingled with the gasps of the crowd, and I felt the unbeatable surge of power that came from knowing what I did was good. And I was happy.

But somewhere amongst all that delicious noise, I could sense an unusual silence, which intrigued me. My eyes were pulled from the show as I realised the silence came from beside me. From Katie. I stopped watching the fireworks and started to watch her instead. Her eyes were riveted to the display, but unlike the crowd behind us she did not ooh and aah excitedly. Instead she stood perfectly still, concentrated, focussed even, as her eyes darted about to take in the full extent of the spectacle. She looked like she was studying it, paying attention to every little detail. Every time I did something clever or slightly unexpected, a little smile would break across her face, almost as if she was proud of me. It was unnerving, and yet fascinating. I studied every tiny nuance of her face with as much enthusiasm as she was analysing my display. Her eyes were just stunning, a deep liquid brown that washed over me before seeping through my skin and mingling with my blood. Behind all that fierceness lay an even fiercer intelligence. For a woman like me, a woman who loved fire, she was irresistible, for she was brimming with it. She had all the explosive potential of a ten inch shell. She could be the most exciting thing in the world, but if you handled her wrong she could fucking kill you. Katie was vital. She never had to struggle to find a moment where she felt alive, even stepping in dog shit in Swindon, she had a volcanic intensity that put most of humanity to shame. And I adored her.

"God, you're good," she said, as the percussive beats of my finale hammered their way across the night sky.

"Quoi?" I muttered, defaulting back to French as I so often did when I was unsettled or surprised.

"You're good, Effy," repeated Katie. "Really good. I know this display probably only took up about twenty percent of your brain power, but even so, you made it different. I may not be a creative, but I do know about shows. I know what makes people sit up and take notice. I know what turns spectacle into art. I know the difference between a fleeting experience that feels good at the time but is soon forgotten, and something that makes an impression that lasts. You've got that kind of talent, Effy. People are going to remember you."

It seemed like I had been waiting all my life to hear those words, but to hear them from her was just…

"Is that why you chose me?" I asked her.

"Chose you?" she frowned.

"For the thesis," I explained.

"Oh.. yeah," she stuttered. "Yeah, that's why I chose you… I mean, your company. Your stuff is just the kind of thing I'm looking for. It relates directly to the central premise."

"I can't wait to read it," I said.

"Um, yeah, well it's early days yet," she said nervously. "I'm really still just collecting my thoughts at the moment."

So it would seem even warrior princesses have their Achilles heel, and I think I had just found Katie's. She was nervous about her thesis. It seemed that she had something she believed in, but was unsure about the delivery. I must admit that though I had always recognised her intelligence, I had never had her pegged as an academic. Maybe she was intimidated by that world in a way she wasn't when she was in an environment that she knew. Either way, that hint of vulnerability made her even more gorgeous.

"I'm sure whatever you write, it will be fabulous," I said.

"You really are bad news, Effy Stonem," she chuckled.

"Why?" I complained. "I'm trying to be supportive friend now."

"But do you have to be so darn cute with it?" she grinned.

"Twice, salope!" I declared. "You've broken the no flirting rule twice."

"Well then, you'll…" she began, before stopping herself. "Oh God, I can't even say it. It's too obvious."

She ran her hand back through her dark purple tinted hair, and the urge to do the same to her myself was almost overwhelming.

"Is this the way it's going to be, or do you think we'll get over it?" she asked me.

"We have to get over it," I replied. "I want you around."

"Come here," she said softly, and pulled me into a hug.

It was a full body hug, but it was chaste. It offered us potential for a different kind of love, one where we mattered to each other, but as friends. Not everyone of course saw it that way.

"Ladies, ladies, fancy a bit of Cookie meat in that sandwich?"

Cook's voice was immediately followed by a loud thwacking sound, which I knew from experience was Freddie whacking him round the head for being crude about his girlfriend. Katie extricated herself from me and I watched as she carefully set about hugging all of the boys too, a move which was particularly well received by Cook.

"Oh sweet Katiekins," he said whilst he had her in his grasp. "When are you and me going to make sweet music together?"

"Not until you've mastered your instrument," she said, pushing him off her.

"But babe, I'm a virtuoso," he grinned.

"Trouble is, you've been fiddling with half the orchestra," she countered. "Your bow's probably gone saggy by now."

Everyone laughed along, including Cook. I liked the way Katie fit into my little family, and it was the truth when I'd told her that I wanted to keep her around. Maybe her and Cook would hit it off and we could all play happily ever after, like some Shakespearean comedy ending where everyone gets married even if they've hated each other until five minutes before the end of the play. I allowed myself to dally with that cosy little fantasy for a while, before forming a back up plan. Even if it wasn't Cook, Katie was a very attractive woman and she would find herself someone soon, and everything would be alright. Ce danger n'était que de passage.

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But then there were the nights. Freddie was kissing my neck, and running his hands up and down my body.

"Jesus Effy, you were amazing," he murmured.

It wasn't unusual for us to fuck when we got back from a show. It's always difficult to come down, and sex was an ideal way to extend the feeling, to release the energy that still burned in our bodies from the thrill.

"You look so beautiful when you…"

I kissed him just to shut him up. I couldn't bear to hear him say it. Freddie was easily satisfied by my display of passion.

"I love you," he said once I released him.

He didn't expect me to say it back. He had learned that it wasn't my way. I had always used my body to show him what he meant to me. I could be far more eloquent that way than I could be with words. He was sleepy, but his soft brown eyes still burned with adoration as they gazed into mine. Shame they were the wrong brown eyes. Putain d'esti, Effy, non. They were the right brown eyes. Hers were the wrong brown eyes. So very fucking wrong. Freddie's eyelids were drifting closed and I could tell it wouldn't be long before he was asleep with his arms still wrapped around me. I started to panic. I didn't want him to leave me alone. I didn't want him to leave me alone with her. I knew she was waiting on the fringes of my consciousness, just waiting for the slightest lapse in concentration before invading my mind with her impossible gorgeousness. Comme elle l'avait fait lorsqu'il était encore en moi. As Freddie's breathing slowed and the last vestiges of consciousness eluded him, I tried to fill my mind with flight data, making mental lists of lift charge timings and burst ratios. Picking random pieces of music and designing pyro for them in my head. Anything to keep busy, anything to keep her out. For it seemed that Katie was a creature of the night too, and tonight she was haunting me worse than ever. She had slipped into my head in a moment of vulnerability, and though the moment itself had been beautiful, it had still shocked me.

What's on Effy's blackboard tonight?

"I must not think about Katie Ford to make me come."

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LEARN FRENCH WITH HYPES AND FROGGIE

Here's what Effy says this chapter, including some things you wouldn't learn in French class….

1. J'ai toujours été un oiseau de nuit. - I am and always have been a creature of the night.

2. Une créature aussi féroce ne peut pas être restreinte trop longtemps.('trop longtemps' - A beast this ferocious cannot be caged forever.

3. La nuit m'a montré ses dents. - the night showed me her teeth.

4. Je voulais créer des choses incroyablement belles, des choses a couper le souffle. - I wanted to make things that were unutterably beautiful, things that truly took your breath away.

5. Y'a des choses qu'il ne valait pas qu'il sache, c'est sûr. - There were definitely some things he was better off not knowing.

6. 'Sans risque, la vie n'est rien.' - 'Without risk, it is impossible to feel truly alive.' The literal translation for the French is 'Without risk, life is nothing' which I like a lot – very Anthea.

7. "Génial," – I asked BlueEyedFrog for an equivalent to Effy's 'sweet' in French, and she gave me several suggestions – this is one of them

8. Elle était resplendissante. - She was magnificent.

9. "Il y a toujours un bouton rouge." - "There'll always be a red button,"

10. J'étais entière. - I was complete.

11. Ce danger n'était que de passage. - This danger would pass.

12. "Twice, salope!" – twice bitch!

13. Putain d'esti – the literal translation for this is some kind of whore – but French people use it like we would use Fuck, Fucking hell, Fuck me and the like

14. Comme elle l'avait fait lorsqu'il était encore en moi. - Just as she had done when he was inside me.