Her stomach was swollen and sensitive to the touch and she wriggled awkwardly to get comfortable, then slowly allowed her eyes to close and tried to coax her body into sleep. She was woken what felt like minutes later by the sound of voices close by. Sheila froze. Voices close by were never a good thing in her experience of this place. ‘Right. So we think this one’s nearly ready?’ ‘Levels look right.’ ‘Lovely. And how many are we looking at?’ ‘At least twelve, maybe more.’ The other voice whistled. ‘Great. OK, then, let’s wheel her in.’ Sheila felt her bed moving and she opened her eyes, fearfully. Behind her was a heavy-set man, pushing her bed; at the foot, pulling her, was a nurse she recognised. ‘Where . . . where am I going?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice level. The nurse looked at her irritably. ‘Does it matter?’ ‘Am I going back to Grange Hall?’ The nurse grimaced. ‘No, Surplus. You’re about to repay your debt to society, young woman.’ ‘Does that mean I’m going to be a housekeeper now?’ Sheila asked hopefully.
