Chapter 6

Sir George greeted me when we arrived at the residence. It was really strange ... even though this was the first time we had met in person, I felt that I had known him for years, I felt so comfortable with him. He felt to me ... kind of ... well, like a male version of my grandma, actually. So I mentioned that to him and he laughed.

“Amazing, Emma. Your granddad told me something like that too. It’s one of the reasons we got on so famously when we first met. I had hoped that you would get to meet my wife Isabella, but she’s back in London with our daughter. It’ll be her second baby.”

“Ooh. You’ll be a grandfather again. Exciting. You’re not there too?”

“Before the baby comes I’d be useless, Isabella says. I’ll go after the baby is born. Emma, are you tired now or do you have time to talk about a little business?”

“Actually I kipped out a bit on the flight so I’m okay,” I said, “but what kind of business do you mean?”

“All of yours. My contacts tell me that there’s a bidding war developing for the licensing rights to your inventions and I want to be sure that you’re protected and that there’ll be some protection for the Crown as well. I don’t think that, in your academic mind, you can conceive of the money and influence your inventions can bring.”

I blushed. “Really? My god, is there something that I need to do?”

“I’ve taken the liberty of contacting your solicitor—the trust’s executor. You do trust him?”

“Completely.”

“Yes, he has a fine reputation. He’ll be in touch with you soon and will want to create a group of investment experts and economists, plus a few experts in international law, to advise you. But there’s another step I’m going to advise that you take.”

“Oooo ... kay? This is gettin’ pretty gnarly now.”

“Hold your breath for this, then. One big problem is that legally, you can’t make decisions on your own. At 14 years old...”

“I’m still 13. My birthday’s in August.”

“All right. You’re a minor and will be for four more years and those four years are critical for your scientific work, especially now that your uncle has been missing for about nine months. After a year he will probably be declared deceased and then, if you stay in the U.S., you’ll be put under the control of some state child protection agency and your guardianship could even be up for grabs, given how wealthy you are and how important your work is. In the U.K., much the same things would happen, I’m afraid. What we really need to do is get you emancipated.”

“I’ve heard about that. Someone in my high school. They become a legal adult.”

“Precisely. Usually it isn’t done for children who are under 16, but I think with your situation, a doctoral candidate...”

“Erm. Doctor now. Dissertation accepted and defense passed. Just need the ceremony and sheepskin. Having those just formalizes the fact.”

“Oh my, Emma! Congratulations! Okay. A PhD in physics, and an international reputation, a clearly stable housing situation, a source of independent support, and strong social ties. Everything a family court judge looks for. And no one to challenge the petition. You’ll be a legal adult—a small one, but legal still. Do you want to go ahead?”

“Absolutely. And don’t take jabs at my being vertically challenged.”

“Couldn’t resist it. Will you be up for a family visit tomorrow? I’d like you to meet my son and his family. They can come for lunch. The press conference will be later. The girls are just dying to meet you.”

“Sure. Do I need to do anything on the emancipation?”

“I’ll have something prepared by tomorrow. I’m thinking we can have it done by video, using a London judge I know, with local barrister services from your trust executor. He and I could be your sponsors.”

“Thank you so much!” I pulled him up and hugged him. “I feel like you’re family, sir. I miss that very much.”

“I’m honored, dear. I’ve gotten to feel the same about you.”

“Well, if this isn’t being too forward, since you were a good friend of Grampa’s, that almost makes you a great uncle. Can I call you ‘Uncle George’?”

He got tears in his eyes, reached out, and pulled me into another hug.

“I couldn’t deny you that, my dear, and it would give me great pleasure if you called me your uncle.”

Wow, they really go all out for the meals here. I had arrived at the residence about 5:30 pm and my meeting with Uncle George (that sounds so right to me) lasted about a half hour. He had some official business to do back at his embassy office so I was on my own for dinner. One person. They served a six-course meal. I was quite hungry, so I really tucked in. Hey, if I stay, maybe eating like that’ll help me grow. Nope, won’t make me tall, it’ll make me fat. I need to make sure that I organize some exercise now that I’m out of high school. Even when the gym was freezing cold, I could use the indoor track and do a 5000 to 6500 meter run at least three times a week, trying to get my 1600 meter time consistently under six minutes for the longer runs. The teachers tried to get me to run for the track team but I absolutely refused because of the time commitment. I frequently used the uni pool for workouts too.

Breakfast Tuesday morning was a buffet and I got to meet a whole bunch of people who were on the residence staff. This is such a beautiful building on wonderful grounds. As well, it’s very close to the U.S. vice president’s residence. I can see the embassy itself across a small parking lot; it looks like a plain office building. But the residence—blimey, just like an English manor house. I remember seeing the British PM’s house at 10 Downing Street when I was little (ugh, still am little) and it looked like just a common row house. What a difference.

Uncle George’s son and family arrived at about 11 am. He’s a good-looking, solid sort of bloke who was wearing a uniform with a crown, a diamond thingie, and the letters “RM” on the shoulders. Whilst he was greeting his dad, I whispered to a ... butler, I guess, “What’s his rank?”

“Lieutenant colonel, Royal Marines, miss,” was the response.

Two girls ran in and hugged Uncle George, glancing shyly at me. Then Uncle George brought the three of them over to me.

“Dr Emma Clarke, let me introduce you to my son, Lt. Col. Stuart Marshall; his senior daughter,” winking at her, “Miss Samantha Marshall, and last but never, never least, her sister Miss Abigail Marshall.”

Abigail stuck her tongue out at her granddad, then the two girls nodded shyly at me but turned to Uncle George when he told them to wait to talk to me till after their dad had spoken to me and he began asking them about their day, grinning at their enthusiastic responses.

Whilst I was shaking the colonel’s hand, he spoke quietly to me.

“I heard I got an instant cousin I hadn’t heard of before,” he remarked as he chuckled, giving me a light hug. “Dad says that he’s your uncle now.”

I blushed. “Erm ... yeah ... I kind of adopted him, I guess.”

“Well, welcome to our family. The rest should be here in a few minutes.”

Then I turned to where the girls were talking with Uncle George and greeted Samantha (“Call me ‘Sam’!” she insisted) and Abigail (“I’m Abi! That’s A-B-I!”); they both looked into my eyes uncertainly so I winked at them and they both threw themselves into my arms and began jabbering rapidly.

“Gramps told us all about you!” one squealed.

“Yeah, you were a hero!” from the other.

“He said you stopped that blighted naked Program in its tracks!” This one was almost a duet.

“And you graduated college already!” Abi now.

“And you’re our age. How did you do that?” Sam.

“What’s Alaska like? Do you see polar bears?” Abi.

Col Marshall walked back over to us, laughing. “Girls, girls—give Emma a chance to answer! Let’s go to the sitting room and you can ask her, but one at a time and give her a chance.”

“They’re fine, Colonel,” I answered, putting my arms around their shoulders. “Just excited about meeting someone they had only heard about.”

“Emma, please call me Stuart. After all, we’re cousins,” he said, winking theatrically at the girls.

That set them off again, wanting to know how I could be their cousin. I explained, laughing, as I followed Stuart to the room. We sat, easily chatting, for about ten minutes. The girls were utterly charming. They clearly loved each other and I felt a pang about not having that kind of companionship as I was growing up. I explained about my academic background, how I had skipped several grades, and what “getting a PhD” was all about. They hung on my words. So did Uncle George and Stuart, interjecting a question now and then.

Then we heard noises coming from the foyer. The rest of the family had arrived, and Uncle George and Stuart rose to meet them. Uncle George motioned us to stay.

“It’s Mum and Andrew,” Abi said. “You’ll like our brother. He’s ace and he’s hunky too!”

Brother? Uncle George was holding out on me? Must be a little guy—younger brother.

They both giggled, embraced, and began sort of bouncing on the couch together as they held each other. They had each other to love. I was so jealous. The voices in the hall grew nearer and I looked up. And my heart stopped. Seriously. I couldn’t breathe. The boy must be Andrew. He looked to be just about 170 centimeters ... okay, okay, for the metrically challenged, that’s about 5 feet, 6 or 7 inches. Maybe 15 or 16 years old. He had wavy blonde hair over his ears, broad shoulders, and a trim waist. He wore a wide smile as he was speaking to Uncle George. His dad walked next to him, an arm resting lightly on his shoulder. Clearly this was a very affectionate family. Then Andrew glanced into the room and noticed me; our eyes locked. Something clicked inside me and I suddenly felt an unfamiliar wash of emotion; the feeling flooding through me was overwhelming, almost choking me. I quickly steeled myself and tamped those errant feelings down ... mostly.

That’s when I first noticed the woman who had come into the room with the others. She immediately came over to me as I was standing up.

“You must be Emma,” she gushed, radiating excitement. Now I know where her daughters get it from. “I’m Gerry. Stuart’s partner. We have to talk so that we get to know you, dear!”

She said “partner.” As in taking an equal share in the family. I loved that.

Uncle George drew Andrew to him and when he came over to Gerry and me, took her hand.

“She’s beaten me to it, but let me do the official honors, Emma. Dr Emma Clarke, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to one of the dynamos of the fair sex, my daughter-in-law, Mrs Geraldine Marshall, but she’ll insist on being called Gerry.”

I took her offered hand, but something moved me and I leaned close and gave her a continental kiss, both cheeks. She blushed and then embraced me. Uncle George was grinning broadly. Then he drew Andrew closer to me.

“And this stalwart young male is my grandson. Dr Emma Clarke, I’m delighted to present Mr Andrew Marshall to you. But never call him ‘Andy,’ remember that,” he chuckled.

Andrew took my hand in his—I swear a spark flew—lifted it to his lips and kissed it.

He murmured as he did, “You can call me ‘Andy’ anytime, Emma.”

“That’s okay,” I managed to choke out, “I love the sound of ‘Andrew.’ It’s so masculine.”

Blimey! Where’s this coming from? I’m not like that! I don’t swoon over boys! Emma, get a grip!

He was still holding my hand and looking at me. I drew a breath and tamped down the fluttering inside me.

“I didn’t know Uncle George had a grandson,” I said accusingly to said uncle.

He chuckled. “Keeping the surprise part of my family for last, dear.”

Meanwhile both Andrew and Gerry were looking at us with open mouths.

Gerry was first. “Uncle...?”

So we had to explain, but this time the girls got involved too, so the explanation came out just a bit garbled. Eventually we got things unsnarled.

Over lunch, which was like a small banquet, we got acquainted. I sat next to Andrew and we shared some facts about each other. Andrew hadn’t been able to figure out anything about me from what Uncle George had told him and his sisters. I was around their age, but had graduated college, or maybe not, but yet I was in a graduate program. Or something. But I was also in high school. He figured that his granddad was either leaving something out or had gotten confused himself, you know, being old and all that. After all, Uncle George and I had never met in person.

Andrew was incredibly charming and gallant and clearly his sisters worshiped him. They were all very close in age, so perhaps that would explain why. Andrew had just turned 16, Sam would be 14 soon, and Abi was 11 (“almost 12!”). But I had seen many sets of siblings in my schools and none were this close. Must be the diplomatic—or perhaps the military—family life?

I would love to spend some more time with this family. Gotta see how to make that happen. And then there’s that attraction to Andrew. It seems it’s mutual too. Jeez.

The press conference was to be at the embassy so I had to reluctantly excuse myself from Stuart’s family to ride the short distance over to the building. Uncle George and I went in through a private entrance and he took me to a briefing room. It was basically a small auditorium. Anston was there, fixing mikes on a table at the front.

“Sir George,” he said as we entered, “is starting now satisfactory?”

“Yes. Let them in.” He spoke to me. “We’ll wait in the wing area over there and come in when Anston introduces us.”

About twelve men and women filed in, followed by some still photographers and two videographers. I could make out the station call letters on the cameras. It took several minutes before everyone was settled down and then Anston closed the door and went to a stand at the table’s side.

“I don’t have to tell you that this is a special occasion. The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland takes very great pleasure in introducing to the world, one of our citizens who has made an extremely important discovery which will affect all of our lives for the foreseeable future. Dr Clarke has agreed to give us time from her busy schedule for this conference, so I ask that you state your questions clearly, be polite and keep to the topic, and use the mikes we’ve provided so everyone can hear. Are your cameras ready? Need any more time? No? Then let me present to you Her Majesty’s ambassador to the United States of America, his excellency Sir George Marshall, and our honored guest, Dr Emma E. Clarke of the University of Alaska Fairbanks.”

There was a polite smattering of applause as we walked in, followed by some gasps of shock plus not a few double-takes as we nodded to the group and sat. Anston remained at the stand at the side; evidently he was going to act as emcee.

“Mr Ambassador,” he began, “do you want to say a few words?”

“Thank you, sir,” he answered. “Mr Tieders has done an excellent job in introducing Dr Clarke, but I’d like to add somewhat more to that. I noticed that many of you were surprised at Dr Clarke’s young appearance. Yes, she is young, not quite 14 years of age. She holds a PhD in physics, and is about to receive bachelor’s degrees in physics and mathematics. She has invented a material which, when further developed, promises to revolutionize electronics, computer science, power transmission, transportation, and who knows what else.

“She did the initial work while she was still in high school and refined it at the university where she led, and I say again, led the team which demonstrated that her theoretical calculations could be developed into a practical device. Dozens of universities from around the world have been in contact with her to come to their facility to share her knowledge. Ladies and gentlemen, Dr Clarke is not an immature teenager, however young she may appear. Treat her with the courtesy and respect you would show a senior scientist. We can take some questions now, Anston.”

“Thank you, sir. Show of hands, please. First row.” he pointed.

“Dr Clarke, this is an impressive achievement. I’m Gordon Jones, science correspondent for the AP. This is two questions, actually. One is about how you have your doctorate before a bachelor’s degree. Second, how did you get into superconductivity research? What gave you that idea?”

“Okay, sir. On the degrees, I assure you neither my university nor I got the order mixed up.” Laughter. “It was simply a result of the order in which I completed the degree requirements, but yes, the uni administration needed some persuasion when it came to how fast I was completing them. They weren’t used to someone going so quickly.”