Also Known As Tamsin

"Can you remember anything else happening after joining that chatroom?" Jenny asked. "If you were that deeply programmed to be this Tamsin, they had to have done something to you, abducted you, maybe brainwashed you ..."

"Don't," Amanda said, putting her fingers to Jenny's lips. "Bad enough to think I could've told Mike that I didn't love him, without me wondering if it was me speaking, or my programming."

"Is it your programming, Mum?" Jenny asked.

Eyes moist with tears, Amanda shook her head, turned away.

"And what about me?" Jenny asked. "Have I been programmed? Why can't I remember anything? I don't remember putting my name down in any chatroom."

"I don't know," Amanda said. "What gets me is that I didn't give the chatroom any details of my real identity; my real name, my address, telephone number ... our number's ex directory, anyway ..."

Her eyes lit up suddenly. She raised her head suddenly, turned to face Jenny. "Why didn't I think of it before? I'll dial 1471!" She got up.

Jenny shook her head. "Won't work," she said. "I already tried it."

"And?"

"Nothing," Jenny said. "The last number dialled was last night; my boyfriend Joe called me about eight pm. There's no record of any calls since then." Jenny raised a hand as Amanda began to interject. "There's another thing. BT says there was a major problem today. The local exchange got struck by a truck. The phones were actually down from about an hour before I arrived. They only got fixed half an hour ago."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Amanda asked.

"It means," Jenny replied, "that nobody could have made any calls into the house at the time you said. Nobody at all."

Stunned, Amanda sat back in her chair. Presently, she took out another cigarette, lit it, handed a new one to Jenny. They smoked in silence for a while, lost in thought.

"Frightening, isn't it?" Jenny asked.

"Yeah," Amanda said.

Jenny leaned forward, staring at the glass table between her and her mother. "What's that?" she asked.

Amanda looked down, saw the note. "Oh yeah," she said. "Did you leave this for me?" she asked. "Only I forgot all about it when the phone rang."

"I didn't leave you a note," Jenny said, as Amanda picked up the folded sheet of paper and opened it. "Maybe Dad left it for you ... Mum?"

The note fell out of Amanda's trembling hands. She looked up at Jenny, as Jenny picked up the note from the floor, read it, gasped.

The note had been sitting on the table since that afternoon, untouched and unnoticed. It simply read:

"WE WILL CALL YOU AGAIN SOON, TAMSIN. YOU WILL HAVE A TASK TO PERFORM FOR US. YOU ... AND YOUR DAUGHTER."