by Gary Russell
But Maria wasn’t going to accept this. ‘If you’d talk to him…’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
Maria was pleading now. ‘Tell him about the magic. How wonderful it all is. Tell him all about the amazing wonders of the universe.’
Luke cleared his throat, about to point something out that neither Sarah Jane nor Maria had noticed — that Alan Jackson was stood in the attic doorway, but he never got the chance because Alan spoke first.
‘Perhaps it is full of wonders,’ he said. ‘But as you said about the Slitheen and so on, it’s not all sparkling stars and moonlight.’
Maria looked straight at him, taking a deep breath. Clearly determined not to be angry with her dad. ‘Yeah, well, sometimes things from space are scary and evil — but how’s that different from things on Earth? And sometimes things from space are amazing and beautiful, and you realise how incredible it all is. We’re part of something much bigger than living on Bannerman Road. Life is so much more than most people will ever know, and I’ve been really lucky. I’ve seen that. And… and I can’t just give it up.’
Alan looked to Sarah Jane. This is too much to take in.’
‘That’s the universe, Alan,’ Sarah Jane replied. ‘Once it’s chosen to show you some of its secrets, you can’t ever turn your back on it. None of us can.’
Alan thought back to standing in the attic a few days earlier, to seeing Sarah Jane and Maria and Luke and Clyde dealing with the Trickster. And remembering how his fear had been ultimately swept aside by pride. Pride in his amazing daughter and her astonishing friends.
He took a deep breath. ‘No. No, I suppose not. I’ve got a lot to get used to, haven’t I?’
And Maria hugged him.
Sarah Jane nodded to Luke, and he indicated to Alan Jackson that he should look through the window next to the telescope.
‘The Kalazian Lights are about to appear. The last time they were visible from Earth was four thousand years ago. The universe is smiling at us tonight.’
As Alan joined the others to look up at the dusky sky, he said quietly so that only Sarah Jane could hear: ‘Let’s hope it always does.’
It was around teatime, a day after the Kalazian Lights had enthralled them all, Alan Jackson included, that Sarah Jane Smith’s world turned upside down.
She wandered into the living room, where Luke was sat, head buried in a book about dinosaurs that tied in nicely with the T-shirt he was wearing, his favourite one with a stegosaurus emblazoned across the front. Sarah Jane had bought him the T-shirt on a day out to the Natural History Museum a couple of months back, and he rarely took it off. The TV was on in the background. Sarah Jane wasn’t really listening to the programme Luke was clearly not actually watching, but she got the gist. A couple of parents, eyes red-rimmed with distress were making an appeal for the safe return of a missing child.
‘It’s been five months since we last saw Ashley’ the woman in the grey top was saying mournfully, her hair tugged back in a tight ponytail. ‘But we pray every night that he’s out there, somewhere, unharmed. And that he’ll come back to us soon.’
Her husband took over, blue shirt, beige jacket.
Sarah Jane noticed things like that slightly more than the actual words.
‘If you’re out there, watching this,’ the dad said, please just call your mum and dad, Ashley Please.’ The dad hugged his distraught wife, and Sarah Jane’s attention was drawn to the distinctive, and rather unattractive scar beneath his left ear.
‘If the human race is going to survive global warming, Luke,’ Sarah Jane admonished lightly, ‘you’re going to have to give it a helping hand — not to mention helping with my electricity bill.’
Luke didn’t even grunt a response.
Sarah Jane sighed and rummaged on the sofa for the remote, to switch the TV off.
‘If you can’t have children of your own,’ the mum was saying on the screen, ‘if that’s why you’ve taken my boy — because you’re lonely — how do you think I feel?’
And something in the words made Sarah Jane watch more closely.
The dad took over again, hugging his wife closer to him. ‘If anybody knows where Ashley is, please contact the West Ealing police.’
And Sarah Jane’s eyes widened as a photo of the missing Ashley Stafford was flashed up.
Under the photo was the mother’s voice. ‘Whoever’s got him, you might think you’re caring for him. You might think you love him. But he belongs back with us. His real mum and dad.’
‘That’s me,’ Luke breathed at her shoulder. ‘I don’t understand.’
Sarah Jane couldn’t speak. The picture of this missing Ashley Stafford was indeed Luke Smith.
Her mind raced. But Luke had been created, by the Bane. She’d been there, she’d seen him seconds after he was “activated”. Maria had been the first person he’d met, talked to. Born into a strange world, physically aged thirteen, but with the innocence of a child. He’d come on in leaps and bounds in the last six months — his fantastic mind learning and adapting so much, that no one outside his immediate ‘family’ knew of his origins. To teachers and kids at school, he was just Luke. Hyper-intelligent, slightly socially awkward, Luke Smith.
Only Sarah Jane and her closest friends knew he was actually one hundred percent Bane-created Luke Smith.
Even Mr Smith had confirmed Luke’s bewildering origins.
And yet… Sarah Jane had never actually seen him as the Archetype, as the Bane referred to him. She hadn’t witnessed that creation.
What if the Bane had stolen Luke, emptied his mind of his life as Ashley Stafford?
What if Sarah Jane had, however unwittingly, been holding him here instead of looking deeper into his background? Maybe she would have found out the truth.
Maybe she hadn’t wanted to — maybe Luke represented the child she’d never had the time in her life to have herself. To bring up, to love and cherish, to —
‘But you’re my mum,’ said Luke, breaking into her thoughts.
Sarah Jane took Luke’s hand and squeezed it with a reassurance she didn’t really feel qualified to give.
‘Come on, I know someone who can give us some answers.’ She led the confused Luke upstairs to the attic.
Chapter Three
Hidden danger
‘Mr Smith,’ Sarah Jane said, as she and Luke dashed into the room at the very top of the house, ‘more than ever, I need you.’
But Mr Smith was already out, as if he’d anticipated Sarah Jane’s arrival. And on his screen was a freeze frame of the distraught mother from the news report, staring out at Sarah Jane, accusingly.
‘I have been monitoring the news reports,’ Mr Smith reported somewhat pointlessly. His serene voice as calm and collected, as always. Whether reporting worldwide disaster or delivering the state of the weather, Mr Smith always spoke with the same manner, which normally Sarah Jane found reassuring and friendly.
But today, a day already less than usual, there was something in his voice that caused a momentary frown on her face. It was as if he was too eager to help. She tried to remember if he’d ever anticipated her needs before, emerged from his chimney stack before, without being asked.
‘The first thing I think I should do is scan Luke.’
‘Why?’ Luke asked.
Sarah Jane squeezed his hand again. ‘It’s all right. We have to be sure.’
‘This won’t hurt at all, Luke,’ Mr Smith said, and Luke was suddenly scanned by a pencil thin red beam of light, running up and down him from top to bottom. Mr Smith did this, four or five times.
‘Well,’ asked Sarah Jane when he’d stopped.
The pause seemed interminable and the mood wasn’t helped when all Mr Smith said after a minute was that he was assessing the information.
After another minute, the longest, as far as they were concerned, in Sarah Jane and Luke’s lives, Mr Smith delivered his verdict.
‘My cellular scan and DNA cross-reference with the a
vailable medical records of Ashley Stafford are concluded.’
‘And?’ said Luke after a long wait.
‘I have a comprehensive genetic match.’
‘Which means?’
‘Luke and Ashley Stafford are the same person.’
For Sarah Jane this was the worst possible result. ‘There has to be a mistake…’
‘I do not make mistakes, Sarah Jane.’ Mr Smith sounded almost cross at the suggestion. ‘That is a human trait.’
‘But the Bane made me,’ cried Luke. ‘You know they did.’
‘The last time Ashley Stafford was seen was getting off the Bubbleshock Factory bus three days before you brought Luke to Bannerman Road,’ Mr Smith said.
Sarah Jane threw an arm around her son, as if protecting him not just from the bad news, but from the whole world. ‘This doesn’t make any sense. Luke was never born. He doesn’t have a navel.’
Mr Smith was as matter-of-fact as ever. ‘Bane society, being egg-born, find the mammalian navel crude and offensive. It would appear that they surgically removed Ashley’s —’
‘My name is Luke,’ Luke said, quietly.
‘My apologies. They surgically removed Luke’s navel at the time he was programmed to be their archetype.’
Luke was devastated. He looked at Sarah Jane. ‘But you’re my mum, not her,’ he threw a look at the face on Mr Smith’s screen.
Sarah Jane was not going to give up. ‘Mr Smith, is there any chance that —’ but Mr Smith didn’t let her finish.
‘Chances of DNA mismatch, approximately four billion to one.’
Sarah Jane held Luke tighter, in case it was the last time she would ever be able to do so.
Across the road at number 36, Maria and Alan Jackson were in similar shock and distress, having seen the news. As they began asking each other unanswerable questions, the front door was opened by an exultant Chrissie.
‘I knew there was something not quite right about Contrary Jane and that so-called son of hers.’
Maria was in no mood to chastise her mother’s irritating habit of deliberately getting Sarah Jane’s name wrong. Instead she just said ‘It’s a mistake. It has to be.’
‘Oh, and why’s that?’ asked Chrissie.
But Maria couldn’t answer. It was just… a feeling, a trust in Sarah Jane and Luke that her mum could never understand. Would never understand. And even if Chrissie knew the truth about Sarah Jane and what they did, she’d still choose not to believe in Sarah Jane. Chrissie was like that. Maria loved her mum dearly, but she could also be very annoying when she put her mind to it. And Sarah Jane was a sore point with Chrissie for reasons Maria had never really got to the bottom of.
‘Exactly,’ Chrissie said triumphantly. ‘So well let the police make up their minds about that, shall we?’
Alan was aghast. ‘The police? You didn’t call the police?’
But Chrissie was unrepentant. ‘I’ve told you time and time again, there’s something wrong with that woman. I can smell it on her.’
She flicked the front room curtain back, to reveal to the others a police car pulling up outside number 13.
‘Told you. She’s a weirdo. You see.’
Moments later, Sarah Jane and Luke were stood in her hallway, a policeman holding the front door open, expectantly.
‘What’s going to happen to us?’ Luke fretted.
Sarah Jane tried to sound calm and casual, as if this happened every day, but wasn’t hiding her real emotions very well at all.
‘I expect the police will take us to the station. They’ll question me, and PC Ford here will take you to see your parents again. Your real parents.’
She tried to smile for Luke’s benefit, but only just managed a quick grimace.
‘So why can’t I remember them,’ he replied. ‘I know all sorts of things — quantum theory, Colluphid’s Law of Hyper-Dimensional Mechanics, I can spot the flaws in Einstein’s theory of relativity too — I can remember every page of every book I’ve ever read… so why can’t I remember them?’
Sarah Jane took Luke by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eye.
‘I wish I had all the answers. I know this is difficult, you must know I do.’
Luke nodded and Sarah Jane took a deep breath before carrying on. ‘But this isn’t a bad day. Mr and Mrs Stafford are your real parents. They love you.’ And Luke’s forehead creased into a frown of confusion.
‘Don’t you love me?’
And if ever a question could break Sarah Jane’s heart, it was that one. But she had to go on, for Luke’s sake; to try and lessen the pain for both of them.
‘Of course I do,’ she said. ‘But you don’t belong with me. Your parents have spent months looking for you. The Bane took you away from them, and broke their hearts. Today is the most wonderful day in their lives because they get you back. And you are going to be an ordinary human boy again, with parents that care for you, and won’t let anything bad happen to you. They’ll protect you in a way I never could.’
She tried not to let the tears she could feel welling up, show in her eyes. It wouldn’t be right or fair on Luke. She had to be so strong for both of them.
‘And so this is the best day of your life too,’ she finished up. ‘You’ll see.’
The waiting PC Ford eased Luke away from her, and Sarah Jane’s hands fell uselessly to her sides as Luke was marched through the front door, out of 13 Bannerman Road and her life for good.
Out in the street, by the corner where Bannerman Road met Old Forest Road, quite a crowd had gathered, mainly neighbours who had got to know Luke and his odd mum by sight over the last few months, most of whom had seen the news reports and were responding with a mixture of confusion, disgust, sorrow or disbelief. Amongst them were the Jacksons, Alan feeling sad for Sarah Jane, Maria determined to protect Luke and Chrissie smug that she had been responsible for bringing this to a head. ‘Here she comes,’ she sniggered. ‘Calamity Jane.’
‘Oh drop it Chrissie,’ Alan snapped. ‘You’ve got your victory, now be quiet, for Maria’s sake if nothing else.’
Maria swung round on her mum. ‘This is all your fault.’
Chrissie was appalled. ‘Hey, I don’t go around kidnapping young boys and passing them off as my own.’
Alan led her back towards his home. ‘For goodness sake, that’s enough.’
‘You watch,’ Chrissie was saying as Alan all but threw her back into the house. ‘Once this gets to court it’ll all come out. Goodness knows what else she’s hiding…’ But Chrissie Jackson’s guesses were cut off as Alan slammed the front door shut.
Maria watched them go as a policeman led Luke down the driveway and onto the streets. ‘Don’t be nervous, lad,’ he was saying. ‘Soon get you back to your parents.’
Luke twisted his arm away, and looked back to where Sarah Jane was being eased along behind, a WPC holding her arm firmly.
Then a woman’s voice rang out. ‘Ashley? Ashley!!’ And the woman from the TV was there, pushing through the crowd.
‘Oh Ashley, thank God,’ she cried. ‘Thank God you’re all right. Oh my baby! My beautiful baby boy!’
Luke just stared at her. As if he’d never seen her before in his life. ‘Are you really my mother? Was I born from your womb?’
The odd phrasing of the question clearly threw the woman who claimed to be his real mother. ‘Ashley, what are you…?’
And then a man was at her shoulder. ‘It’s all right, love,’ he said to his wife. ‘Hello, son. Of course she’s your mum. Don’t you remember us? Son?’
Luke just shrugged and spoke the truth as he knew it. ‘No. Not at all.’
There was a moment’s silence before Mrs Stafford shrieked with a rage that only an angry mother could, and ran towards Sarah Jane, who had to be protected by the WPC and another officer. ‘What have you done to him, you witch?’
PC Ford, the policeman who’d been in the house, stepped before Mrs Stafford, holding her back. ‘Mrs Stafford, please,’ h
e started, but the distraught mother tried to strike at Sarah Jane.
‘I haven’t hurt him,’ Sarah Jane protested. ‘I swear to you, Luke — Ashley, he had an accident. He’s lost his memory. I had no idea he even had parents looking for him.’
And Mr Stafford was there now, comforting his angry wife, calming her down. ‘What, you thought the fairies had left him under a mulberry bush, did you? You make me sick!’
And Sarah Jane could say nothing, because Mr Stafford was right. She never even considered the option that Luke hadn’t been created by the Bane. Not once. She just took it for granted and when Mr Smith had created the adoption papers, she’d never asked him to do any checks, just in case. Although surely, Mr Smith would’ve done that automatically, so why didn’t any of this show up?
Before she could ponder this further, the WPC whispered in her ear that they ought to get going to the station, for Sarah Jane’s safety more than anything else. With a nod, Sarah Jane Smith let herself be led away.
As she was going towards the police car, Sarah Jane caught a last look at Luke, being placed into the back seat of the Stafford’s .car by the father.
‘Mum!’ he shouted to her, but Mr Stafford slammed the door shut, cutting off the sound of his voice. ‘Come on you,’ he said, harshly. Time we got you home.’
‘Darling,’ added Mrs Stafford, almost as an afterthought.
Clyde Langer felt utterly useless. Maria had just texted him to tell him the gist of what was going on, and that she’d fill him in on the rest later.
His best mate. Ever. Taken away by strangers. And Sarah Jane treated like some sort of criminal.
‘Oh this is so not happening,’ he said out loud.
‘What’s that, sweetheart?’ asked Carla, Clyde’s mum, as she carried more books into the library stockroom.
Clyde had offered to help him mum this evening. The library where she worked was doing a stock take over the weekend, trying to work out which books, CDs and DVDs had been borrowed by the great and good of Ealing and never returned.
Or had been misfiled.
Or had generally gone astray. Twice a year the library did this, and twice a year Clyde helped out. He liked doing it — he adored his mum (not that he was uncool enough to let people at school know this — he had an image to keep up, you know) and since his dad had gone, they spent as much time together as they could. And Carla was the best mum ever, but she’d never understand about Sarah Jane and aliens and stuff. Clyde hated keeping secrets from her, but knew it was for the best.
