“Yes,” said the other, clutching her doll tightly. “But he’s not.”

Dolly Mixtures

Cuthbert was a boarder at St Michael’s School for Medically Gifted Boys and Girls.

Even by the high standards of the school he was not a nice child. He despised his parents for not letting him practice surgery on the servants at home. That was one of the reasons they sent him to boarding school. He hated his teachers for not being as clever as he was. He loathed his classmates for their attention to rules.

The only rule Cuthbert followed was one he made up himself: always keep the knives sharp.

Out of everybody, Cuthbert hated the girls at his school most.

They were always playing ‘doctors’ with their dolls: always putting bandages on them and taking their temperature. Watching them made Cuthbert feel ill.

“They’re not real!” Cuthbert would shout at them, “They’re not alive! You’ll never learn anything.”

One day Cuthbert decided to teach them a lesson. While they were all out at an accident unit learning how to plaster broken legs, Cuthbert sneaked into their room. After half an hour of work he was satisfied.

When the girls returned he was sitting in the common room reading a magazine. It was two minutes before the screaming started. The girls came storming back in.

“What have you done to our dolls?” they demanded.

“I just played a game of Dolly Mixtures,” said Cuthbert, smiling at them.

All the doll’s arms and legs had been taken off and mixed up.

So had their heads.

Some arms were attached to necks. Some heads were attached to thighs.

The girls were not happy. They called Cuthbert lots of names.

Cuthbert laughed and took himself off to bed.

When he woke up in the morning he could tell something was wrong.

He couldn’t move his arms.

He couldn’t move his legs.

Try as he might, he couldn’t move at all.

There was something in front of his eyes, stopping him from seeing anything.

Then someone pushed it up, away from his eyes.

It was a hat.

He was in a shop window. He could see his reflection in the glass.

He was made of plastic. That’s why he couldn’t move.

Someone had removed his brain and put it in a showroom dummy.

The hat had a feather in it.

He was wearing a dress.

Outside the shop staring at him, were two of the girls from school.

“You know,” said one, tilting her head. “He almost looks real.”