Free The Special Ones by Em Bailey Page B

right,’ she says again firmly, and then points to the opposite wall. ‘This picture would look much better over there.’
    I suppress a smile. ‘You can move it,’ I say. The Lucilles always like to make minor adjustments like this. ‘I’ll ask Harry to hammer in a nail for you.’
    It’s Lucille herself who suggests she join evening chat that night. ‘My followers have gone for long enough without my guidance,’ she says, tucking a glossy ringlet behind her ear. ‘And I’m sure he must be wondering what’s taking so long.’
    I examine her face, trying to work out if she’s sincere. I’m still not sure what I think of this new Lucille.
    ‘She’s got a point, Esther,’ says Harry. ‘It has been a very long wait for the followers.’
    ‘Well, okay,’ I say, making it seem that I’m the one allowing it. ‘I guess we can try it.’
    Lucille looks genuinely thrilled and Harry shows no sign of concern, but the uneasy feeling in my chest continues to grow.
    I take Lucille to the chat room early so I can explain how everything works. She reacts as everyone does when they see the sleek modern glow of the computers – with disbelief and excitement. ‘How do they work? I thought we didn’t have any electricity.’
    ‘We have a solar generator,’ I explain. ‘Harry looks after it.’
    ‘Why don’t … can you remind me why we don’t use it for other things? Like lights and refrigeration?’
    It’s something I’ve often wondered about myself. How much easier my work in the kitchen would be if I could put things in a freezer, or keep milk fresh for more than a single day in hot weather! But making life easier has never been the focus here. As it says in our books, hard work is our greatest teacher .
    ‘The generator is just for the computers,’ I tell her.
    ‘So which one is mine again?’
    I point. Lucille sits down in front of it and stares at the blank screen.
    ‘Remember, the chat is monitored,’ I tell her, a warning note in my voice. ‘If you say anything inappropriate to the followers, there will be repercussions. And not just for you.’
    She turns her head. Smiles her new, unnerving smile. ‘Oh, Esther. You don’t need to worry. Have you forgotten who I am?’

    The chat session goes well – better than it usually does with a freshly renewed Special One. When I glance over Lucille’s shoulder to check her answers, I can see she’s writing with the ease of someone who’s been doing this all her life.
    I find myself noticing how similar she is to the previous Lucilles. The Lucilles always have a particular way of sitting at the keyboard during chat – their backs ruler-straight, eyes intently focused. They all twirl a lock of hair around their index finger when they’re thinking, too.
    When the session ends, Lucille is glowing. ‘They were all so desperate to talk to me! They really valued my opinions and advice.’ She flicks back her hair. ‘We’re kind of like gods, aren’t we?’ she muses, more to herself than anyone else.
    Did I feel like this after my first chat? Probably, back when I still believed I really was Special. I definitely don’t feel like that now. Now I live in constant fear of making a mistake and exposing myself as a fraud.
    ‘Like gods?’ I say lightly. ‘Well, yes. Exactly.’

    With Lucille living among us, life on the farm finally returns to normal. She takes over her allotted duties and I’m free to get on with the tasks that have been mounting up: pickling vegetables for winter, giving the cutlery a thorough polish. And, of course, the followers fall over themselves with delight at finally having the four Special Ones back together again.
    I feel myself relaxing, just a little. I should know better.
    ‘I’ve had a message from him, ’ says Harry one morning, between mouthfuls of porridge. ‘It’s verification day.’
    I knew we were due for this, but all the same I instantly lose my appetite. ‘Today?’
    ‘Oh no,’ whispers Felicity.