Cloner A Sci-Fi Novel About Human Clonin - By Emma Lorant Page 0,118
cloned again so soon after the cloning in the bath, had bloated up again so quickly after that? Because Anne was feeding him the goat’s milk loaded with Multiplier? No, that couldn’t be why. The fertiliser had been modified.
‘So how is Jansy? Any chance of your letting him come back soon? I never blamed him about Duffers, you know. That was Geraldine’s own fault. I told her Duffers could only come if he behaved whatever the children did. This is a playschool for young children, not a kennels. And you know he isn’t allowed here any more.’
‘I know,’ Lisa managed to say. A thought struck her. ‘What does she do with him?’
‘Frank always takes him when he brings the milk. Actually, he often did before. Duffers is locked up until then.’ She smiled at Lisa. ‘As for the eggs, that was just high spirits! My own silly fault for not keeping my eye on him every second. He’s a real challenge.’ She stopped, almost out of breath. ‘And I miss my little sessions with him.’
The incident with the eggs suddenly took on a new significance for Lisa. Did he know what made him clone? Was he trying to avoid contamination? But the eggs couldn’t be the problem, any more than Meg’s goat’s milk. Frank and Don had slaughtered all Meg’s chickens last year when cleansing the farm of the old strain of Multiplier. Perhaps the ground was still contaminated, the grass eaten by the goats, pecked at by the hens, carrying it into the food chain. But was that enough to trigger another cloning? Or was there something else?
‘Seb told me Janus liked drinking tea,’ Lisa brought up.
Anne laughed. ‘Extraordinary child. He always liked to pretend he preferred it black!’
‘Black? Jansy likes to drink it black?’
‘“No milk”, he always said. I’ve never heard of such a thing with such a little one before. Sat there, just like a grown-up, holding his cup and refusing to have milk.’ She smiled uncertainly at Lisa. ‘Of course it was very weak tea; practically hot water. Sometimes I put a slice of lemon in it for him, and I always added a large dollop of our own clover honey.’ She looked at Lisa nervously. ‘But of course I made sure he had his morning milk with the others,’ Anne hurriedly went on. ‘We didn’t let him get away with anything. I added a bit of honey to that, too. He didn’t seem to like it.’
‘What about the eggs, Anne? Do you get your eggs from Meg?’
Anne frowned. ‘I thought she was a special friend of yours? Are you trying to tell me there’s something wrong with her produce?’
‘I’m just worried about the bacteria in eggs,’ Lisa explained, her mind working through possible threats to Janus. ‘You know - salmonella. They say that free-range chickens are the most suspect. And there might be listeria in the soft cheese made from goat’s milk.’ She smiled pleasantly at Anne. ‘Did you use that, by any chance?’
‘You’re really worried about the stuff, aren’t you?’
‘Only as far as Jansy is concerned.’
‘You think Jansy may be allergic to the bacteria?’
Suddenly the word clover pushed itself into Lisa’s consciousness. Clover honey - Anne’s hives were set right next to Crinsley Farm. The real culprit among the foods Janus had eaten at school wasn’t Frank’s produce, it was the honey! That would be last year’s crop, made by Anne’s bees gathering pollen from Frank’s fields. So if Anne had been sweetening Janus’s tea with it, and even added it to his milk, it could be – would be - what had caused the rapid bloating. Lisa’s heart began to turn as she thought of the problems young Janus had had to deal with. Perhaps that was the reason he’d stayed thin since he’d been at home. He’d peed the extra stuff away at Brean Sands, and because he hadn’t been to playschool he wasn’t imbibing any contaminated food. He’d stayed with her, safely consuming supermarket food.
‘It’s possible. Alec’s really concerned about his behaviour. He even thought Jansy might be autistic, but I know that’s absurd. After all, he’s usually very sociable, and very keen to take part in everything. It isn’t autism.’
‘He’s always easy with me,’ Anne insisted. ‘I’ve no idea why everyone’s so down on the little lad. Bright as a button, with quick reflexes. Means one’s got to be on one’s toes when looking after him.’