December exclusive - "Christmas Time" - Part 3 🎁🪆

“What a little stinker you’re being!”

Katie will be late home after all. A last-minute protest from the target when it is way too late for protests. Katie sometimes wonders what someone like this hopes to gain by putting up a fight. They must know it’s over.

Katie talked to Rachel about this once, and Rachel said it was about pride.

No one wants to admit that they’re okay with a fate like this. They have to kick and punch, so that when they finally give in, they don’t look as though they had wanted it all along.

Red-faced and howling, wearing just a nappy, Paul makes all kinds of threats. He knows all kinds of people. He has leverage. Katie looks down at the baby on the carpet and manages not to roll her eyes. Doesn’t Paul get it? The leverage, the secrets, the ‘kompromat’ – that’s the very reason he ended up in Parkdale.

“Better be good,” Katie says softly, “you don’t want Santa leaving you a lump of coal.”

Paul waves his hands at her, as if he might reach up and scratch, given half the chance. “Santa’s not real,” he insists with garbled diction, although Katie can see from his expression that her threat has landed on target.

Katie loosens her school tie, unbuttons the top of her white blouse. Not because she is going to reveal some cleavage, but because she wants to show Paul a piece of jewelry she received more than a decade ago. She takes the pendant in her hand and spins it lazily, letting it sparkle. “I just happen to know Santa,” she says, her voice even softer now. She crouches down and smiles. “And Santa told me that he wants to bring you lots and lots of toys…as long as you’re good. As long as you’re a good boy for Katie.”

Paul stares at the necklace, transfixed. “No….nuh…I doan…”

Katie watches the boy’s face. His eyes, widening and then drooping. His shoulders slumping. He watches the sparkles. He gapes at the twinkles.

You should sing them Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,Jessie has suggested on more than one occasion. That should be your song. But Jessie has always been the more whimsical of all the teen agents.

“You want to sit on my lap, sweetie? Just like you’ll sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what you want for Christmas?” Katie’s tone is sweet and refined as white sugar. And the boy reaches for her, hands opening and closing. Yes. Up. He wants up.

Katie takes him to the couch and sits him down on her lap. She strokes his head and tells him the easiest, simplest of stories, while he watches the pendant and listens and mumbles, and it’s not long before his eyes are glassy and his chin is wet with drool. Because he’s just a sleepy baby. He just wants to be a good boy so he can sit on Santa’s lap. And then even that idea must be too much to understand, as he sucks on his thumb and closes his eyes.

Katie kisses the baby’s head, sits back and rests her own eyes. Outsiders might think (once they had recovered from discovering the horror of Parkdale) that an agent like Katie would form attachments to the targets. And for the most part, outsiders would be wrong. Katie treats her charges with kindness – she is not like a rogue nurse in an old people’s home – but she does not love the children, she does not fall for them. She’s seen them in their previous forms after all, she’s seen them in their imperfect adult guises.

Some agents do fall, they fall hard. Luke and Rachel, for example, both gaining younger siblings thanks to Parkdale visitors. Katie has remained an only child, and she’s grateful for the peace and quiet when she’s off duty.

Still, there’s nothing like the smell of a baby. She kisses the top of Paul’s head, inhales his scent. He’s starting again, whether he deserves a second chance or not. There’s always a reason in the briefing, always a justification for what they do. But Katie would be lying if she had always been convinced that she was on the good team.

It’s complicated, Miss McKay has said on more than one occasion. You’ve seen a lot, but you haven’t seen the whole picture.

Katie and reaches for her phone and sends two messages. One is encrypted, to let her employer know that the job is done. The second messages is to Luke.

Christmas catch-up? 🍹

She smiles. Another of those delectable B and Bs.

She shuts her eyes, waits for her phone to buzz. And she spares a thought for her last job, that will take place at some point in the final 10 days. Will they deserve it? She wants to ask the other agents, don’t they wonder, isn’t there some doubt about this place? But Katie is the senior teen, and she doesn’t talk to them about doubt. Not about the mission, anyway.

She imagines the day of release. Sucette had asked her at yesterday’s testing appointment , did she want to be her real chronological age? No, no thanks. Thirty sounds geriatric. But out of Parkdale, away from the science, she will age naturally. And she’s looking forward to finally being seen as an adult.

At their previous cocktail night, Luke had asked her, “So you’re going to pick up where you left off?”

Katie had laughed. “Hardly. I was a spoiled brat. Biggest problem I had before Parkdale was getting up in time for horse riding lessons on Saturday.”

Luke had gone back to stroking her neck. “I can see you on a horse.”

And Katie could see herself kissing him, finally, just to see what all the fuss was about. But she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. “Oh, I loved Peaches. Before my father lost his money, before our family ended up on the scrapheap, it was all private school and riding lessons. So no, I won’t be picking up where I left off.”

“You’ll have the money for it.”

Katie had shifted away from Luke. The money part was true, but she wasn’t interested in ponies and hockey sticks. She looked back at the boy. “I’m not that girl anymore.”

The phone buzzes. The mother is on her way. And then a second message, from Sucette:

Come into the clinic tomorrow morning. Want to repeat the tests. Nothing to worry about!

Nothing from Luke. Katie sighs. She probably shouldn’t drink before the testing anyway. She keeps her eyes closed, cradles the baby. Her head nods, her breathing deepens. They’ll find her asleep on the couch, looking like a teen mother fresh from the tabloids, still in her school uniform.

Unprofessional. Katie groans, opens her eyes, and then takes the baby upstairs to the nursery.

To be continued...