The Declaration

white blond hair and pretty blue eye-shadow around her eyes, but her naked body was so . . . droopy. That was the only word Anna could find to describe it. Her skin sagged disconsolately around her frame, hanging off her flesh as if it were waterlogged or had simply lost the will to hold itself up any longer.
    Anna had kept her eyes lowered, but Mrs Sharpe must have seen her looking out of the corner of her eye because she looked at her and smiled sadly.
    ‘I just can’t bring myself to go under the knife,’ she’d said with a little shrug, as Anna blushed furiously at being caught out. ‘It’s ridiculous, I know, when I could have everything perked up in no time. But every so often, things go wrong on the operating table. And now I know I’ll be living for ever, it’s made me scared of death. Isn’t that silly?’
    Miss Humphries took Laundry, and checked every sheet, blouse and towel before it was packed away, because Mrs Pincent had said that every single item had to be ironed to perfection before it could be sent back to its owner.
    Anna had partnered with Peter in Laundry for the past few weeks, but today Miss Humphries put her with Sheila, which meant, Anna recognised, that she would have to do most of the load herself if it was going to achieve the high quality expected. She wondered how Sheila would cope on the Outside, whether she would ever prove Useful enough for employment. Anna pushed the thought from her head. Sheila was not her responsibility, she reminded herself. Sheila could look after herself.
    Silently, they started to iron the large sheet, folding it into a neat, pressed rectangle as they did so. Then they ironed another, and another, then a duvet cover, then three blouses and a whole load of undergarments until the entire pile had been turned into a neat, fragrant stack.
    ‘Well, doesn’t that look nice and pretty.’
    Anna looked up to see Tania standing over Sheila, her eyes focused on the laundry sitting in front of her.
    She narrowed her eyes in warning, and Tania tossed her hair. ‘It’s OK,’ she said, smiling silkily, ‘I’m not going to do anything. But Sheila, I bet your parents would be proud, don’t you think? That their dirty worthless Surplus daughter is learning to do her chores?’
    Sheila stood up angrily to face Tania, but even standing, the top of her head barely reached Tania’s nose.
    ‘At least my parents didn’t want to give me up,’ Sheila hissed. ‘I’m Legal and the Catchers stole me away. But your parents didn’t want you, did they, Tania? They just gave you away. I bet you were a really ugly baby. I bet your parents couldn’t even bear to look at you. And nor can I.’
    Tania’s face went red, and Anna stood up quickly. ‘Enough,’ she said angrily. ‘Tania, get back to work.’
    Miss Humphries was walking towards them and Tania reluctantly turned, pulling a few strands of Sheila’s red hair out of her head as she walked away, forcing tears of pain into Sheila’s eyes.
    ‘Why do you do that?’ Anna asked, shaking her head. ‘You have to learn to ignore her, Sheila, otherwise you’re always going to be picked on.’
    Sheila smiled benignly. ‘I don’t mind being picked on,’ she said. ‘And I only told the truth. Tania’s parents brought her here themselves, didn’t they? She wasn’t wanted by anyone in the whole wide world. Not like us, Anna. Our parents wanted us. That makes us special.’
    Anna looked at Sheila in bewilderment, wondering how she managed to twist the truth so easily. Mrs Pincent said that parents who gave up their Surpluses were honourable; Anna herself had always wished her parents hadn’t been so selfish, hiding her away in an attic.
    ‘No Surpluses are special,’ she whispered angrily, looking around to check that no one had heard. ‘Sheila, don’t blaspheme like that.’
    But Sheila just smiled secretively.
    They didn’t talk for the rest of the training session and it was only as they were leaving that she turned conspiratorially to Anna.
    ‘Look,’ she said, pulling something out of her pocket. It was pink and silky, and Anna gasped as she recognised it. It was a pair of knickers, but not the sort of knickers that Surpluses wore. They were silk and soft and Anna remembered admiring them as she ironed them. And now they were in Sheila’s pocket.
    ‘Put them back,’ Anna hissed. ‘Put them back or I’ll tell Miss Humphries. You’ll get beaten, Sheila. Quickly, before she notices . . .’
    But