Free Chosen by Lesley Glaister Page B

those luscious muffins? Maybe they get a better meal at night? John and Daniel are waiting outside the door, and Martha catches up with them all. ‘Meditation now,’ she says in a hushed voice.
    â€˜Oh, but I don’t want to!’ Dodie says.
    Martha lifts her finger to her lips. ‘Just twenty minutes or so.’
    â€˜I just wanted to chill this afternoon,’ Dodie whispers.
    â€˜Hey, Dodie, there’s no better way,’ John says.
    â€˜Better than a nap,’ Rebecca says. ‘Honestly.’
    â€˜Scientifically proven,’ Daniel adds.
    â€˜But I said I’d phone Rod,’ Dodie says miserably.
    â€˜Later. You won’t mind changing your clothes, first?’
    Martha says. ‘Your different style of dress is distracting to the others and, besides, you must be hot? You’d feel more comfortable yourself, more at home with us.’
    â€˜Good jeans, though,’ Rebecca says. Martha gives her a sharp look and a blush makes her freckles stand out almost green.
    â€˜Yeah, these are good, aren’t they? I think every person must have a best brand for their body shape. I’m a Levi’s person –’
    â€˜
Hush!
’ Martha’s voice is a loud hiss and the echo of Dodie’s words hangs stupidly in the air. Rebecca won’t meet her eyes. ‘Rebecca, you come with us,’ Martha says. She sends John and Daniel off to meditation and sets off at a great lick, round corners and along endless corridors of doors that look identical until eventually she opens one and they step into a lilac room filled with a sweet laundry smell and lined with hanging rails of clothes.
    â€˜Trousers or skirt?’ Martha asks.
    â€˜Dunno. Trousers.’ They look good on Rebecca with her long, slim legs. Martha selects a pair of floppy cotton trousers and holds them against Dodie to check the length, then finds her a T-shirt of a slightly paler lilac.
    â€˜Try them,’ Martha says. The Australian woman, Hannah, puts her head round the door.
    â€˜Ha, there you are. He’s asking for you,’ she says to Martha. ‘I’ll take over here.’
    Martha hesitates. She’s breathless and rather pale.
    â€˜Where do I get changed?’ Dodie asks.
    â€˜
Martha
. Our Father is waiting. Or would you rather I . . .’
    â€˜No, no.’ Martha is clearly torn. ‘See you later,’ she says, blinking at Dodie and Rebecca, though not at Hannah, as she goes out.
    â€˜Going to try them on, then?’ Hannah says. Her eyes are still on the door Martha went out of, and there’s a snarky little smile on her face.
    â€˜I don’t particularly want to change,’ Dodie says.
    â€˜You really
like
being a sore thumb?’
    Dodie shrugs. It’s not such a big deal, and she is hot.
All the things I do for you!
she’ll say to Seth. She steps out of the jeans – should have taken the boots off first; she unzips and hops about ridiculously, while Hannah and Rebecca wait, looking at the floor. She puts on the loose, cool trousers; a little too long after all. Rebecca kneels to roll up the bottoms for her. Dodie peels off her sweater – her favourite green cashmere – and hands it over. She pulls the capacious T-shirt down over her own vest. Of course thereis no mirror. Wearing these pyjama-like clothes makes her sleepier than ever.
    Hannah folds the old clothes and stores them on a shelf, alongside her boots.
    â€˜You forgot your watch.’
    Dodie’s hand clasps over it. ‘I’d rather not, if you don’t mind. It’s just I always wear it.’
    â€˜Imagine if we all wore watches what it would be like here! All the time-junkying.’ Hannah puts her hand out.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Ticking and bleeping and counting the minutes.’
    Dodie looks to Rebecca for support, but doesn’t get any. Hannah keeps her eyes on the watch until, sulkily, Dodie unbuckles the strap and hands it